Ode To The Carrot

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How wonderful the carrot, sturdy, sweet!
What would a cole slaw be without the bright
sweet orange gratings of this tasty root?
For salads carrot curls, and what beef stew
would be complete without it’s carrot chunks?
I cherish carrot soup on a winter’s day,
warming and nourishing to flesh and bone
and carrot juice for hunger and for thirst.

Descended from the lace of good Queen Ann,
the feathery fronds belie the sturdy root.
Who was it first discovered under ground
the part that nourishes juiced, cooked, or raw?
How glad I am that someone long ago
saw the potential in that pale white root
and turned a lovely flower growing wild
into a vegetable for daily fare.
From that pale slender small yet meaty pith
a patient gardener crafted over time
what we call carrots–orange, long and firm.

In summer Daucus Carrotis’ slender stalks
topped with a white umbrella-like bouquet,
nodding beside New England streets and roads,
delight the eye of many a passer by
whose gaze is for the flower, unaware
that they are seeing carrots true forbears.

Image and poem by Tasha Halpert

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A Wee Jingley Rhyme

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A Wee Jingly Rhyme

Every season has its beauty
summer, winter spring and fall
Do not ask me for my favorite
I will say I love them all.

Etched against the sky in winter
trees inscribe their signature;
summer simmers with bright beauty
spring and fall have their allure.

Every season has its beauty
bringing joy and sweet delight
I could never choose among them
All are lovely in my sight.

All creation harmonizes
as the seasons come and go
every snowflake has its moment,
sparkling brightly in the snow.

Every season has its beauty
beauty there for all to see.
As I contemplate its splendor
so it sings its song to me.

Tasha Halpert

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Photo by Tasha Halpert

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Spring Moods

Cunning Spring blows hot, blows cold,
Fools us all and makes us scold!
First a sweater, then a coat,
Then a scarf to cover throat.
Next the sun will make us hot,
Shed it all and sweat a lot.
Slyly Spring you fool us all
Not unlike your sister, Fall.
Fickle, tricky, saucy dame
Still we love you just the same.

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Poem and Photo Copyright Tasha Halpert

Into the Ago Bin

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Into The Ago Bin

Into the ago bin I toss my past–
How long was it since…? When did that happen…?
And does the sequence of things matter?
Like an accordion, time shrinks and expands
To fit the feeling of the memory.
Logic has little to do with anything.

I took the trash out yesterday? Or was that last week?
Perhaps tomorrow is trash day.
Time melts as sparkling icicles in the sunshine of happiness
Or solidifies with the icy wind of grief, the chill of regret.

I cannot hold time in my hand or keep it in a jar.
I can only watch it pour itself through me.
Such a short time before this I was small,
Swinging on the rope swing that hung from the big elm.
Once my young children clustered around me
Now their children are older than mine were then.

My mirror shows me my familiar smile.
Does it reflect a wiser me?
Today my clock strikes the hour.
Tomorrow has not yet struck,
Yet it will toll the same hours.
The present moment strikes over and over.

Tasha HalpertImage

Give Me Wings

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Give Me Wings

 

Give me wings, give me wings,

let them carry me to where my eyes can see,

let me fly, oh let me fly,

so that I can really know that I am free.

 

When I climb the mountain, I can see so clearly,

everything is laid out far and wide;

but I live down in the valley, where it’s mighty hard to see

with the mountains looming up on every side….

 

 

Give me wings, give me wings,

let them carry me to where my eyes can see,

let me fly, oh let me fly,

so that I can really know that I am free.

 

When I find the answers, then I know the questions

everything is simple so it seems,

but I feel so very tiny in the midst of daily life

as I struggle with my hopes and fears and dreams…

 

Give me wings, give me wings,

let them carry me to where my eyes can see,

let me fly, oh let me fly,

so that I can really know that I am free.

 

When I feel the music, swelling up within me

bursting out into another song,

then I find myself distracted by a thousand other things,

and it’s difficult to let it flow along….

 

Give me wings, give me wings,

let them carry me to where my eyes can see,

let me fly, oh let me fly,

so that I can really know that I am free.

 

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Photo Copyright 2013 Chris Lorenz