Moment in Time


September air held a slight chill.

Friends were warm and caring

as Uncle David was memorialized;

Now, we explored tangible roots

at the old Snavely Mill of his childhood

where he and brother Paul played

boating and swimming at the millpond.


Suddenly // seemingly out of nowhere

a Great White Egret rose majestically

from the rust colored weeds

dying along the pond’s edge.

Circling for a moment above the trees

it flew gracefully on up the pond

and out of sight…

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Photos: Dwight L. Roth

This is the eighth anniversary for the d”Verse Poets Pub. Brian shared some special moments in time that we all experience. He asked us to think about a special moment in time and write a poem to take us there!  This is one of my favorite moments I have experienced. Hope you enjoy it too!

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Time Slippin’


As time slips by I find joy in moments
Beauty of yellow wildflowers swaying
Song of bright red Cardinal singing sweetly
The world around me struggles with rebirth
The same weeds come up from long hidden roots
Pulled so plump red tomatoes can grow

This is Quadrille Monday at d’Verse Poets Pub. Linda asked us to write a Quadrille of exactly 44 words using the prompt slip. My poem today deals with the passage of time; living one day at a time, and being in the moment of awareness of all that is going on around me.

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What Remains

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On the back way to town, just across the railroad tracks, is what remains of a great old truck. It must have been sitting in the weeds listening to the trains roll by for many years. Parts have been cannibalized, but the original character remains. The army green on the roof gives clues to its past. It’s rusty patina gives it character. I am sure it has many untold stories that could be shared, if it could talk.

Rugged old truck rusts
surrounded by weeds and brush
Hasn’t run for years


Someone removed a few parts
Just like me // no one sheds tears


Photo: Dwight L. Roth




Effortlessly (Haiku)


It always amazes me how beautiful wild flowers appear along the roads and highways. Even thistles produces a flower second to none. Perhaps we should expand the definition of flowers for our garden.  We work so hard to make our flowers grow, while nature’s flowers seem to grow effortlessly. I think we should all get back to growing effortlessly!

Nature produces

Most beautiful blooming weeds

Should call them flowers


Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Weeds or Flowers


This beautiful miniature flower was growing along my garden fence and entangling my blueberry bush. It looks like a tiny morning glory, but seems to bloom all day long. As I pulled the vines off the bush I thought, “How interesting it is that we go to the garden store to buy flowers that sometimes grow when we get them home. Perhaps we should consider growing weeds instead buying flowers!??

Today we have poetry in weeds?


















Paul Simon and Art Garfunkle had a hit song that said, “I am a rock, I am an island. For a rock feels no pain and an island never cries…”  The isolated aloneness of this song makes me say, “No that’s not me!”    I cannot imagine living without my family roots.  They give me a sense of history and a set of values, morals and faith that I have drawn on all my life.   I believe roots are necessary whether they are birth family, an adopted family, or community of faith. Life must be very lonely  without connection to our roots.


Without roots

We are pulled weeds


Tossed in the pathway of life

Rooted out

Sometimes by our own choosing

Or pulled from family gardens

Thrown onto the pathway of life

By cynicism and judgement


To be trampled underfoot

But our roots can still grow

Alone in the hard cracks of humanity

Rising again and again

To bloom one last time


Courageous strength

Refusing to dry up

In the pathway of life

No matter what comes our way

Without embedded roots

We are only  tumbleweeds

Dust in the wind

In a desert of humanity