Poem for Spring

Humber River, Looking north from Dundas Street bridge; BB Z10 photo by Steven Potter

Humber River, Looking north from Dundas Street bridge; BB Z10 photo by Steven Potter

Beneath the silent frozen floe,
Waiting for its time,
Under stumps and rocks and ice,
Sleeping in the vine,

Measuring days, the warmth and light,
Solar angles rise,
Sending home from parts unknown,
Pulsing wings across the skies,

This silent Spring drives clockwork things;
We’re captive in the round.
We sense the Earth’s rebirthing;
We hear the trickling sound.

We are the melting winter ice;
Through crystal cracks we make our start.
And fracture down through frozen ground,
To pool inside our Heart.

We follow close the hidden stream,
Carving worlds anew.
We fan the fire feeding dreams,
Of sun drenched hills in view.

Of flowers, fields and gentle breeze,
Creatures of every kind,
Spring grows and shares all we hold dear,
Miraculous Design.

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Bird in Hand #2

Baby Sparrow, BlackBerry Z10 Photo by  © SCPotter

Baby Sparrow, BlackBerry Z10 Photo by © SCPotter

HumbleSparrowKnownByAll
HatchedAndFlippedAndTookAFall
ToMyYardAPlaceToLand
PhotoOpInMyLeftHand

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Today’s tweet poem.

Found this guy sprawled out in my back yard; Mom and Dad flittering about.

I gave him some water and a little nest made from an old cotton rag. Hope he survives.

Waffle in Hand

Waffles hot from the grill, Nikon D90 Photo by  © SCPotter

Waffles hot from the grill, Nikon D90 Photo by © SCPotter

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The Waffle Song

Oooh…I’m a little waffle, cookin’ in the grill,
Some happy little belly, I am gonna fill.
Load me up with syrup, butter and some cream.
Yes, I’m the yummiest breakfast you have ever seen.

Oooh…my brother’s just a corn flake, crunchy, cold and dry,
He floats around in milk and doesn’t even try,
To be the kind of breakfast for a King or Queen.
No, I’m the yummiest breakfast you have ever seen.

Oooh…my sister’s name is Oatmeal; she’s sticky, warm and sweet,
With cinnamon and raisins, she makes a lovely treat.
But movie stars with Oatmeal are never on the screen.
No, I’m the yummiest breakfast you have ever seen.

Oooh…my cousins in the egg box are served in many ways,
Boiled, fried and omelet style, some have them every day.
They eat them in the morning, on toast and in between,
But, I’m the yummiest breakfast you have ever seen.

Oooh… my other friends are fruits and nuts, delightfully combined,
With yogurt or some ice cream, I know you’d surely find,
They’re not the best for breakfast; you know just what that means,
Yes, I’m the yummiest breakfast you have ever seen.

Oooh, I have another brother, in fact he is my twin.
We’re made from common batter, I’m thick and he is thin,
He’s just a plain old pancake; he won’t be in your dreams,
No, I’m the yummiest breakfast you have ever seen.

Sooo…now you know the menu; what options will you choose?
At breakfast you’re the winner; with waffles you can’t lose.
Let’s get the griddle going for the taste that reigns supreme,
Yes, I’m the yummiest breakfast you have ever seen.

© Steven Potter, July 30, 2013 All rights reserved.

The first verse of The Waffle Song came to me last Saturday morning as I was taking a shower and thinking of what I’d like for breakfast. In fact, the first verse was finished before I got out of the shower! It’s really a great place for composition, poems and singing!

Over the next few days, the rest of the song slowly came together. And now, what began as a tweet poem, has taken on the stature of a camp-style, sing-a-long earworm! My wife and I can’t stop it from playing in our heads.

In honour of the songs arrival a week ago, we had waffles for breakfast this morning. And the waffle in hand photo was taken to complete the story.

I’m hoping that someone at TVO Kids will like it well enough to put it into a video. I can already visualize many of the characters in the song; think this could be a wonderfully funny story when visuals of the “breakfast family” are added.

Poem for Faith and Graham

Wedding of Faith & Graham, Nikon D90 photo by SCPotter

Wedding of Faith & Graham, Nikon D90 photo by SCPotter

Your love today,
Down Virginia way,
The family shared,
And all who cared,
Came to say,
We give this day,
Our hearts are one,
And through His Son,
Your love will grow,
And all will know,
The joy you get,
Is the joy you sow.

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Last Saturday I was in Fairfax Virginia, sitting in the front row of the Truro Anglican Church, and serving as witness to a lovely joining of souls. My niece, her fiancé and the historic church, filled with the music of a solo violin, made for an exceptionally beautiful wedding.

The church has huge arched windows on all sides and the patterns of sun and light, and views of greenery outside filled the space with a deep peace and reverence for Life.

During the reception, the guests were asked to write comments for the newlyweds on little 2”x3” cards; words of wisdom, etc. I started off thinking a tweet poem would be nice, but as the words tumbled out it barely squeezed onto the card; much too long to be tweet-able.

Faith and Graham, may you have a long and happy life together.

U-joint in Hand

Universal joint undergoing repair, BB Z10 Photo by  © SCPotter

Universal joint undergoing repair, BB Z10 Photo by © SCPotter

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Started with a squeak,
Parts were spinning dry,
U-joint tried to speak,
Before the bearings fried,
Mechanic joints renewed,
Driveshaft spinning true.

Today’s tweet poem is another post in the series of “object in hand”; this time with a photo of a greasy bit of hardware known as a universal joint, or U-joint.

For the past week or so I’ve been hearing a squeaking noise coming from the rear of my truck. (’98 Ford Ranger) The frequency of the sound was proportional to speed and stopped when the clutch pedal was depressed. This told me it was likely the rear U-joint, and sure enough, when I took it apart one of the bearing cups was completely dry and turning into rust.

Ford did not include grease fittings on these joints; they are “sealed for life” and intended to be “maintenance free”. Problem is, when the life of your truck goes beyond average, a bearing that can’t be lubed is not going to last.

So today, for about $40 in parts (front and rear U-joints) and 4 hours of very dirty work, I now have a renewed drive train. (And U-joints with grease nipples)

A Doe in Hand

Brampton Ontario, July 10, 2013; BlackBerry Z10 Photo by © SCPotter

Brampton Ontario, July 10, 2013; BlackBerry Z10 Photo by © SCPotter

Innocence arrived today,
And licked my wrist as if to say,
She welcomed life by rescued hand,
The gentle caring Orkin man.

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Tweet poem for today.

When I posted yesterday’s “Bird in Hand” photo I had no idea of what I would be holding in my hand today! It’s the same hand, and the same camera angle, and another wild creature looking me right in the eye.

I was at work when our pest removal guy came by to show us his latest find: a doe just barely a week old and separated from her mother.

I don’t know all the details of how he came to be the new Mom, but I could sense by the way he cradled her that, if she was going to survive at all, her chances with him were as about as good as it gets.

Orkin is known as an exterminator of invasive insects and catcher of nuisance animals. The kindness of this Orkin employee (sorry I didn’t get his name) seems such a contrast.

I’ve got a few more lines for the poem in my head, so I may post again when they settle down.

…and today’s my birthday. What a wonderful gift.

A Bird in Hand

Gray Jay (Perisoreus canadensis) in Algonquin Park, July 2012; Nikon D90 © SCPotter

Gray Jay (Perisoreus canadensis) in Algonquin Park, July 2012; Nikon D90 © SCPotter

Algonquin trails so green and deep,
Forest alive, its treasures keep,
Me holding camera ready snare,
For Grey Jay’s happy thankful stare.
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Today’s Tweetpoem.
Grey Jays are omnivorous and store food for the coming winter in bark crevices, under tufts of lichen, or among conifer needles. They quickly learn humans = food, and will take on bold behaviours when tempted. Wikipedia indicates they “cache thousands of food items every day during the summer for use the following winter”.

This particular guy must be a veteran of the Park, given his four leg bands. Perhaps a birder could comment on what the colours mean?