Poet's Platform Column | 3 April 08 by Janet Nesler | The Scioto Voice | Wheelersburg, Ohio

Spring Fling On a warm April day, in late afternoon, I take a stroll through the woods at Murphin Ridge. Signs of spring are everywhere: new chartreuse-tinged buds await warming days on tips of eager branches; mayapple, dressed in flowing green, rehearse for a spring fling like ballerinas dancing a graceful ballet. I hear birds singing, ‘tho I don’t know one bird song from another. I am flushed with ecstasy. Suddenly, my eyes are drawn to a venerable shag-bark hickory tree. Ah, something is amiss here. Clinging to its shaggy bark, is a length of chartreuse string; it is the same color as emerging anxious buds. Is there significance here? There is no rhyme or reason for it being here. Perhaps it was carried here by the wind… or perhaps it was intended as lining for a phoebe’s nest.                                         Charles Clevenger New Boston, Ohio   Shades of Green Mother Nature knows about green, It seems to be her color of choice. Of all the pigments on the color wheel, Green speaks gently with a calming voice. The blue-green grass of a Kentucky meadow Is the playground for thoroughbred Kings. Here, the swallowtails come to dance and play, In concert, while the meadowlark sings. The yellow-green tinge of willow twigs Bring excitement to the springtime scene. The drab and gloom of the winter landscape Will soon be clothed in green. The iridescent green of a hummingbird Affords safety in a sylvan bower. The silvery green of turned-back leaves Portend an impending summer shower. The deep-dark green of a summer forest, A sharp contrast ‘gainst a cloud-pocked sky; Mother Nature is partial to shades of green, Behold her handiwork—and understand why. Charles Clevenger New Boston, Ohio   Morning Drama Beneath a curtain of morning mist, The meadow shimmers in mellow light. I reflect in quiet contemplation, To set free these words I write. The vibrant beauty of a summer meadow, Ablaze with a galaxy of flowers Fills my soul with peace and joy, Here I linger for wistful hours. A bluebird preens in the morning light, Costumed lupines dance and sway; My excited heart jumps for joy— As nature’s symphony tunes up to play. Alone here at nature’s stage, The curtain is about to rise. The drama of a summer morning Unfolds in majesty before my eyes. Charles Clevenger New Boston, Ohio