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L.A. Jones

A border image:  A black-and-white closeup of the rose's petals.

​​What is in a word

That "bloom" just blooms from the mouth

While "seed" germinates?

Words

Words in a row,

Tidy and neat,

Words striking paper

With a typewriter beat;

​

Words black on white,

Techni-color in the mind,

Words constantly reached for,

Words impossible to find;

​

Words shooting like fireworks,

Words pouring like rain,

Words tumbling in freefall,

Words pouncing again;

​

Words tickling nerve endings,

Words on the verge,

Words marooned in the soul,

Never to emerge;

​

Words whispered,

Words shouted,

Words clung to,

Words doubted;

​

Words scrawled

In desperation,

Words forged

With perspiration,

​

Words.​

As referenced in the poem, a shooting firework.
Close-up of a well-used birdhouse in Colorado.
A bird feather seen in black-and-white.

For the birds

Waking Up​

​Robin

Serenades the dawn.

Rooster

Rails.

Dove

Mourns the morning.

Jay bird

Plots to rule the world​​​​!​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Resident Wren

​Sing song like no other,

Sneak attack at dawn,

A trill a minute,

Hide-and-seeker,

Binoculars baffler,

Resident Wren.​​​​

Hummingbird

​Did you see it?

That blur; that flash

I guarantee it—

That's hummingbird

On the dash!

Buteo

​You're called "buzzard" and "hawk"

And "buteo"

(They say for the sound of your squawk).

To me, it's clear—

You've one name, my dear;

You're none other than

BEAUTY-OH!

Bald?

​Majestic sir,

Silently sentinel,

Posing for your portrait

So it would seem...

With a headful of feathers

Gleaming beacon-bright,

How is it

You are deemed bald?​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Towhee

​Towhee,

Why so shy?

With that haunting cry

And the blood in your eye,

A warrior

You could be!

My Little Chickadee

​He comes when I call,

Bright eyed and feather tailed,

With a cheep-cheep

And a peep-peep

And a chick-a-dee-dee-dee!

Blessings

​Count your blessings

One by one.

Count the moon,

And count the sun.

Count the stars

Which span the sky.

Count the feathers

Flying by!

View of a bumblebee on a sunflower.

And, for the bees

Sunflower (Faux)

Sunflower,

Fun flower,

Bumblebee's bower,

How, oh how, you shine!

​

Faux they say,

To my dismay,

What, oh what,​

Do they know?

​

Sunflower,

Fun flower,

Bumblebee's bower,

How, oh how, you shine!

​​

False are you;

It's just not true—

What, oh what,

Do they know?

​

Sunflower,

Fun flower,

Bumblebee's bower,

How, oh how, you shine!

​

They should pay

For what they say

With a bumblebee's

Sting to the nose!​​​​

Another look at the busy bumblebee on the sunflower.

Holes in Things (Excerpted)

Holes are a deep subject;

Just go ask any bunny.

Dive inside that rabbit hole

And things turn pretty funny!​

​

Let's talk more about holes

In the animal kingdom.

The sky's a big hole 

For birds on the wingdom.

 

​"Aristotle's lantern" is the poetic name

Of the hole that the sea urchin eats with;

He motors around, upside down,

Barging through kin and kith.

 

​There's a groundhog who loves cold weather;

He's Punsxutawney Phil.

He pops out of his hole with his shadow;

Phil's keeping things chill—if you will.

​

Whales have holes for exhaling air

When they rise from under the sea.

Holes like mini apartment homes

House the harmonious honey bee.

​

Speaking of cozy accommodations,

Did you know that the wild grizzly bear

Digs a hole to snuggle inside of?

Yes, indeed—he calls it his "lair."

​

Then there's the wild crustacean

That seeks out a hole called a "shell."

He tucks himself inside it

Like the farmer in the dell.

​

But when it comes to a hole,

You just can't beat a mole;

Holy moly a mole-y

Sure can dig a fine hole-y!​

A closeup view of a sea-urchin test in black-and-white.

Sneakers

Once at a party

For a very fine kiddo

(Except for the times

When he'd pop his lid-o),

​

There were presents aplenty,

All heaps of fun,

But for the maddening,

Inevitable one.

​

A pair of sneakers;

Really, how rotten!

They were shoved in the closet

Where they lay forgotten.

​

Funny thing about that, though,

In fact these shoes were awesome;

For these cleverest of shoes

Knew just how to play possum.

​

All day in the shoebox

They nestled tight,

Hidden away

Clean out of sight,

​

Biding their time

Until midnight struck;

Then out they popped,

And out they snuck!

​

Scooting under the bed

Where the dust bunnies play,

Then out to the garden

Where the mantises pray;

​

Squishing the strawberries,

Digging up potatoes,

Turning to ketchup

Prizewinning tomatoes;

​

Stomping in the mud,

Splashing in a puddle,

Swinging from the branches

Where the lovebirds like to cuddle;

​

Strolling on the beach,

Striding up a mountain,

Kicking up their heels

In an ornamental fountain;

​

Then back to the box

At the crack of dawn

(Before the very fine kiddo

Awoke with a yawn),

​

Sliding at last between

Tissue-paper sheets;

These wondrous shoes—

Alive without feets!

​

Came a day when the kiddo

Was forced to look fancy

(For the piano recital

Of his sister Nancy);

​

He pulled on his suit,

Clipped on his bowtie,

Remembered his shoes;

Now you won't wonder why

​

When he dragged out the shoebox

And took off the top,

The very fine kiddo's

Eyes did pop!

​

Into his mind

A question now flashed:

How in the world?

His new sneakers were trashed!

​

But it's not rocket science

How his shoes became reekers;

There's a reason, of course,

Why these shoes are called "sneakers."

A pair of sneakers dangling from a power line.

Winston Hangs Ten

Winston Wilson hated shoes

From the first day he occurred;

"Toes flapping free, that's how it should be!"

Cried Winston, though nobody heard.

​

When his granny's angora booties

Were slipped onto his tiny feet

Winston screamed his tiny head off;

Granny beat a hasty retreat.

​

At four years old, little Winston

Got a pony named Moon Boy Blue.

His ma wedged on some cowboy boots;

Winston raised a great hullabaloo!

​

He sent the boots a sailin';

His ma had to hit the deck.

"No crampin' my style!" cried Winston.

"Shoes are a pain in the neck!"

​

As you can imagine, young Winston

Had a heck of a time out at school;

Shoes were a part of the dress code,

And some kids found shoes really cool.

​

But Winston's poor toes suffocated

Every time he pulled on high-tops;

Winston cut two holes in his high-tops

Through which his toes could pops.

​

The day Winston got his diploma,

Mortarboards flew through the air.

They were joined by a pair of high-tops;

Finally Winston's cramped toes were bare!

​

Winston jumped on the back of his pony

(His true little Moon Boy Blue),

Aimed toward a place he'd dreamed of

Where he could do what he needed to do—

​

Live his life without any strife

And be the one to choose

What his life should look like;

He had only shoes to lose—

​

Winston rode without stopping

Until he could ride no more;

Moon Boy pulled up in a tide pool

Where the ocean ran to the shore.

​

Then Winston had a revelation:

On the waves he'd have some fun!

For one thing Winston truly believed—

Toes stark naked never hurt anyone!

​

That's how Winston became a great surfer;

Hanging ten for him was a gift.

And the most inspiring sight of all

Was when Winston gave Moon Boy a lift!​​

A tall palm tree at some surfer's paradise.

​© 2026 by L.A. Jones.  All rights reserved.

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