Waking in Spring


I hope I will always wake in tulip sunshine

among the fragrance of green grass

growing near flowing rivers

while breakfast sizzles in

cast iron skillets

with biscuits

on cobalt



If this

goes away

in my memory

and leaves me for

another day in changed

places, I want to still wake

in tulip sunrise and still smell

the coffee brew to another time but let

not the reciting bobwhites forget to sound; so I will always remember.

copyright: CMM 2005

The way I have felt since Sunday time change …

Artist: Christine McNeill Matteson


Keats spoke of a rose and how it would not wilt.

This rose came only once and was not made of silk.

PIcked among a garden this one unique rose,

taken from the thorns, this flower she chose.

Sat upon his desk, and nurtured from the stems,

drenched in water, cut in a vase, and looking back at him.

He called the rose loveliest of any in his fences,

this rose compared to others, they had no defenses.

However the secret of this rose was not from one attending.

The secret of its beauty was truly from its sending.

This rose he said was more because a friend gave way,

now the beauty of the perfect rose was given to him today.

Swelling powdered scents flowed in the house and settled,

crimson velvet sculptured rose, green stem among the petals.

Beauty in its temporal form in nature’s moment bloomed,

eternal rose, deep within was nurtured to the tomb.

copyrighted:  ©  CMM  2004

Keats Rose DSCN2709

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Walk on Campus

I climbed each step as if to say

I have volunteered to 

Set my journey on this quest

I step each step to do my best

The wind picks up and starts,

It wraps my scarf in separate parts

I hold it as if to say 

Turn on wind, I am here to stay.

Blowing warmly on my face

Across the walk I finally turn

Down the walk I smile to know

I have made it this far, however slow.

CMM. copyrighted: 2023

Spring Rain

Morning Lights

Hanging just above

Mystic dawning caught my eye.

Lights across horizon ride .

CMM. 2023

A Gift


Time will see

What the paint brush

Gives to me.

CMM. Copyright : 2023

Wassail (In Honor of the 12th Night)

Pour a glass of wassail

pass them one by one

from the elderly at the table

to even the youngest one.

Say a prayer of thanksgiving

remember those who are gone

pray for the future that is coming

Do not forget a one

Pour a glass of wassail

Do not forget the sick and lame

Drink up with all the promises

that the good life stays the same.

CMM. Copyrighted 2023


Christmas Cards

I threw away old Christmas Cards today.

Going through the Christmas closet,

there they were, from dear friends.

Years and years of hellos in December

sparkles and snow scenes with pictures.

They shared their families triumphs,

some sharing the passing of loved ones.

I am not sure why I kept them,

I guess they felt like treasured gifts.

However, time lessons the feelings

as they collect to be too many.

I decided to throw away the old ones.

Few send Christmas Cards anymore,

they have become less and less.

It is mostly done from family

or retired people with more time.

I threw away the old Christmas Cards today

an era of innocence, at least if feels that way to me.

CMM 2022