Molasses Bear

Evening has fallen.

The once brightly coloured stained glass windows

of the chapel are now dark as molasses.

They are so dark they almost look sticky and sweet.

What if they are, and this is actually a giant gingerbread house?

I ponder breaking off a piece to taste it,

the sugarcane windowpane…

but then the cold night air would come rushing in,

smelling of starlight and snow

and possibly followed by the large nose of a black bear,

snuffling about and eager to lick the molasses windows

with his long, wet tongue.

Even if we all rushed off to bed,

the bear could eat his way in,

then wander about the place,

leaving a trail of muddy paw prints

and crushed leaves and little bits of cedar

and a scent like the memory of late summer blackberries

coming from this large furry living thing

prowling about indoors,

who is not normally meant to be there…

On second thought,

I suppose I won’t try tasting the windows, after all.

(PS Thanks for the great bear pic, Four States News!)

The Stomach Storm: A Children’s Poem

‘Cause writing a silly poem is the best response to 2 am tummy bugs…  

Upon the arrival of the Stomach Storm

and lest we climb Mt. Doom,

we attacked the land with broom in hand

and Lysol weapons, too.

 

 

We sailed the sea of Bubble Bath

and towel-clad began

the ascent of Mt. Laundry,

at it’s highest since the world began.

 

 

We prepared to imbibe

that blessed drink,

elixir for the storm,

’tis called Ginger Ale

I think, in its sparkly form.

 

 

And slowly sunny skies appeared

o’er the land of Tummy,

the noxious gases disappeared

and soon again our suppers will be yummy.