Always something new in nature

I thought the slugs had managed to reach my sunflower seedlings

despite my putting the tray where I deemed it inaccessible.

You'd think after years of battling garden gastropods

I would have learned just how much they're capable of -

leaves stripped back. Do I have to resort to slug pellets ?

Then, having breakfast looking out at the garden

I noticed a hedge sparrow hopping about near the plants

and sure enough it thought it was time for ITS breakfast.

In gardening it's true -you never stop learning.

DREAM ?

Smooth skin, soft breasts,

warm sheath, sated rests.

What but . .

What bubbles and fizzes more than prime champagne

and effervesces sunshine out of rain ?

What hops and skips beyond olympic games

and soars above the bar of petty blames ?

What laughs at nothing from the joy within

and dares your patience with a cheeky grin ?

What turns your January into June

and yet collapses like a burst balloon

when angry words must chide then very soon

can re-inflate itself just like before

and dance in triumph on the kitchen floor ?

What lies angelic in its night-time rest

and makes your quiet evenings doubly blessed ?

What else but happiness of children fires your days

into a glow that warms so many ways ?

Bored by the metronomic music I sat

and watched the other customers nearby.

She leaned her face into the younger guys

at the table and gazed into their eyes.

So close. No freshness bloom of youth

flowered her face though still attractive.

The sheen produced by years of make-up

didn't hide the start of sinking in her cheeks.

One after another the men drifted off

until one only could-be courting couple

remained facing each other and kissed.

An older man appeared. His wife stood up,

whispered goodbye. Together they walked away.

She looked above at the starry sky

and stretched her little arms up high

but disappointment creased her face

and grasping hands fell back in place.

Perhaps it looked like a bright balloon -

just two and reaching for the moon.

If only life were like the stories

instead of the way it usually sucks;

if ugly ducklings always turned swans

instead of becoming ugly ducks.

Free the children

How dare they imprison such young children

scarring their growing minds for life

warping their forming personalities

cursing their psyches with unsort strife !

Surely they must see what they're doing

in so many household nursery dens.

We can't any longer turn a blind eye.

We must ban imprisoning cots and playpens.