April 11, 2024
Who is my neighbor?
woven into my window screen, a dusty cobweb waits for life to land
in the shade of my brick patio, a push-up pumping common lizard
works to impress a lady-friend
a small, pale moth throws itself at an unlit lamp
–such is self-loathing
a new wren flits in… to play? or perhaps hers is not the kind soul
I want to believe in
the desert squirrel satiated in spring sun, stretches in a patch of grass
–my resin spurge attests to his appetite
lounging amidst scattered marrow bones, my furry friend
counting down days to snow, missing winter’s critters
desert neighbors busy themselves beyond borders I call my yard
no mind for my music, my whirligig, my midday amble
not like the inquiring eyes that peer from lowered sunglasses
gazing into my window from morning pavement
hello, neighbors!
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
April 9, 2024
After upheaval, new life is revealed. Earthworms.
earthworms 1.0
make your bed she said
a keystone chore of my childhood
a compass to navigate daily life
as though if your bed were made
you could manage what a day would throw at you
what a life would throw your way
rebelliously forty, I stopped
lazy me
coupled with fluffy duvets and throws
mussy beach-hair for my bedroom
some product, casual flooffing
you’re on your way
gardens ask more of me post-snow melt
layer compost, mulch
ten feet of snow needs time to dry out
weed, aerate
dream
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
April 10, 2024
A wilderness can exist in our own backyards.
wilderness welcome
let go the map
walk with believing souls
wade through thistle and weed
forget fences –arbitrary safe space
embrace unknown birdsong
she calls her chicks to rest this night
a nest for relief, in a tree
a seed you did not plant
but has settled in your heart
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
““““““““““““““
earthworms 2.0
earthworms tunnel
into a disarray of decay
consuming faces, names
how to play hearts, all of us living it
they will know what to do
with the coffee grounds
naturally, they prefer to ingest
small amounts
turn, turn
what emerges
in better condition than what went in?
dream, plant
the whole field breathes
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
April 8, 2024
“…the Oxford Junior Dictionary…removed fifty words…minnow, mussel, ferret, wren, bloom, bluebell…New words demand attention…blog, broadband, celebrity…”
the gift of the minnow
transfigured in spring
a flame of flash and red,
midsummer swims
back and forth
back and forth
carries upstream
mouthfuls of pebbles
to the soft gravel bottom
of riffled ponds
undistractedly digging a nest
to receive and protect the future
drawn without question
to do its part
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
Patricia Franz is a kidlit writer and published poet. She believes children, dogs, and sourdough have a lot to teach us about life, joy, and wonder. She has raised two boys, four dogs, and holds a master’s degree in Theology with a focus on children’s spirituality. Patricia, her husband, her Bernese Mountain dog, Bonny, and her sourdough starter split their time between the Arizona desert and the Sierra Nevada mountains. 
Patricia, your daily poems are a wonderful array of thought. I especially like the poem with the word floofing and the interesting way you unfolded that poem.