Weekly Contest
Classic poem of the day
Whenever the days are cool and clear
The sandhill crane goes walking
Across the field by the flashing weir
Slowly, solemnly stalking.
The little frogs in the tules hear
And jump for their lives when he comes near,
The minnows scuttle away in fear,
When the sandhill crane goes walking.
The field folk know if he comes that way,
Slowly, solemnly stalking,
There is danger and death in the least delay
When the sandhill crane goes walking.
The chipmunks stop in the midst of their play,
The gophers hide in their holes away
And hush, oh, hush! the field mice say,
When the sandhill crane goes walking.
member poem of the day
A cloud is born
From river’s edge
As rain begins to fly
The sun leaks out
From building gaps
As clouds and clear-sky mix
I seek a bridge
A makeshift roof
To hide and keep me dry
But then I see
A mother mad—
Her boy runs by and kicks
Frank Watson © 2016
