Fairy Believable

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

I,
for one,
am inclined
to believe
that fairies
hang up their thimbles
when a sunny day
seems as right for dreams
as a moonlit night
makes for idle hands.

I
would not
go so far
as to say,
because a
fairytale I love,
that there’s anything
but a name—and the
lore of bygone times—
in the name, foxglove.

From Wikipedia:

Digitalis is a genus of about 20 species of herbaceous perennials, shrubs, and biennials commonly called foxgloves.

Many suggestions for the derivation of the name “foxglove” have been proffered:

… it seems quite probable that the shape of the flowers suggested the idea of a glove, and that associated with the name of the botanist Fuchs, who first gave it a botanical name, may have been easily corrupted into foxglove. It happens, moreover, the name foxglove is a very ancient one and exists in a list of plants as old as the time of Edward III. The “folks” of our ancestors were the fairies and nothing is more likely than that the pretty coloured bells of the plant would be designated “folksgloves,” afterwards, “foxglove.” In Wales it is declared to be a favourite lurking-place of the fairies, who are said to occasion a snapping sound when children, holding one end of the digitalis bell, suddenly strike the other on the hand to hear the clap of fairy thunder, with which the indignant fairy makes her escape from her injured retreat. In south of Scotland it is called “bloody fingers” more northward, “deadman’s bells” whilst in Wales it is known as “fairy-folks-fingers” or “lambs-tongue-leaves”.

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

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Another Repost: Song of the Thrush

Another repost from last summer’s Nature Insight series. 

The Thrush
for the moment
without a song,
walked the path
with a purpose
she had all along.

She meant
to crack that snail
so hard to crack;
who would’ve thought
all she should do
was give it a whack.

Whack, wallop, whack!
Whack, wallop, whack!
Such strength to pretend;
Whack, wallop, whack!
Stand back, stand back!

Have a go again!

The thrush
for the moment
found a new song,
flying off with
a meal she knew
she had all along.

                                 

Copyright by DM Denton 2011

                                                                                 

(Author’s note: Just had a little fun writing this inspired by long ago scribbled words.)

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

Repost: Summer Moments

This week I am reposting a poem from last summer. One of the reasons is that I have received the edit of my novel from my publisher and am working on the revisions, which hasn’t left time for doing any new writing or painting. (This is also the reason I am behind on your posts. Please forgive my seeming absence over the next few weeks; know that I “am around” although I may not leave comments, or if I do, very brief ones. Your understanding is appreciated.)

The other reason for the repost is that…

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

…for over two years we have had a stray cat visiting us, at times on a daily basis, at least a few times a week. I put dried food and water out in case he came when I wasn’t home or just didn’t see him, and would give him “the good stuff” (as my mom called wet/canned cat food) whenever I realized he was visiting. We eventually named him “Sunny” because, winter and summer (as long as it wasn’t too hot), he loved to nap in the sun, whether in our driveway or flowerbeds or on the woodpiles. Well, we haven’t seen him for almost two weeks (and neither has my neighbor who also fed him) and are beginning to fear that something has happened to him. Last summer he would sleep on the seat in the arbor we have in our garden, mostly in the evening, shaded by an ever-enlarging trumpet vine, and so I wrote the poem below. I offer it again in tribute to this lovely vagabond who would let me touch his nose only, but who touched our hearts with his patience and struggles and gentle spirit. Hopefully, he will turn up again.

 

Summer Moments

I walk around with my camera
c
atching the moments
b
efore I simply let them go;
the choice isn’t mine
t
hough I like to think it is
s
o I might yet be
a
little
o
f the creator.

A brave butterfly in mourning coat
m
arooned in full flight,
s
potted blue and fading yellow,
p
osing ragged wings,
a
s if inviting the chance
o
f my noticing
i
ts moment
q
uickly passing too.

Cone flowers forming tall umbrellas
u
nder the noon sun,
f
olding down, pretending homage
t
o hybrid lilies,
c
rowded buds swelling into
c
andy cane colors
t
o make most
m
erry in July.

And a straying friend curled beneath
s
oundless orange trumpets,
h
is sleepy eyes wondering what
m
ight yet be taken
a
s I hold him in my view,
a
nd every moment
i
n regret
t
hat he is not mine.



©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

Nature Insight: By a Thread

So small

hanging on a thread

of its own making,

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

hesitant

to go up or down,

caught in a

movement larger than

its life,

taken for a ride,

let down so gently

after all.

Flattens out then gets

up again,

delicate and brave

as it

decides its next move.

Tiniest spider

I’ve ever

seen, slowly sliding

through the cracks

where it’s safe.

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.