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Cheerful, E. H. Johnson, in English Clear filters

CheerfulE. H. Johnson

Evasion

The shivering poplar trees stand guard, Along the road that skirts our yard. While at their feet the snowdrifts play, As travellers hurry on their way. Content to weather out the storm, Here in the house so snug and warm, I recline behind this pane of glass, Watching the red-cheeked youngsters pass. And I think, It is wise to remain inside. But am I trying the truth to hide? Do I say it because I fear the cold? Aw, that’s absurd--I am not that old!
CheerfulE. H. Johnson

Porcupine

He waddled down to the creek each day, Chuckling over some secret joke, A proud old man who would not give way To any of the forest folk. His armor of quills rattled and clicked, Warning all to clear his path. Even the bears knew they were licked; They turned aside in helpless wrath. Quietly, slowly, he would drink his fill, Keeping a wary eye on me. Then, wheezing, he would climb the hill, Ludicrous in his great dignity.
CheerfulE. H. Johnson

Dog Gone Heart Thief

I wish he wouldn't look at me Like I was God. It puts me in such misery To use the rod. Like when he chewed my Sunday hat, Then cringed in shame, And mutely begged me to see that It was just a game. His soulful eyes were full of tears. What could I say? Only what I’ve been saying for years; "Aw, it's okay." I just can't punish love like his; It would be unfair. What small price my torn clothing is For love so rare!
CheerfulE. H. Johnson

Cycle

Autumn is an artist with a careless brush, Spilling many colors in his eager rush, Daubing his canvas with red and gold, Then rushing off to get out of the cold. Nurse Winter tucks blankets around Mother Earth, Hushes the household of children’s mirth, Sits by Earth's bedside and attends to her needs, Till a new Spring at her full breast she feeds. Spring is the new-born, all rosy and sweet, Crawling about at Mother Earth’s feet, Learning to walk and to laugh and to play; All too soon now, he will hurry away. The teen-ager, Summer, is part child, part man, Spring growing up -- how brief his life span! Awkward and naive, but brave to the core; Mother Earth sighs, and starts knitting once more.
CheerfulE. H. Johnson

Non-Conformist

I have no illusions, Or favorite delusions, To take to a psychiatrist. My problem, you see, Is a worse malady, With a baffling, bothersome twist. For I want a psychosis, Or one pet neurosis, To enhance my personality, ’Cause my days don’t conform To the popular norm -- They are too full of reality!
CheerfulE. H. Johnson

Fresh Snowfall

The wildfolk print their newspaper again, Their stories neatly typed on glistening snow, Depicting life as lived there in the glen, Such joys and tragedies as we, too, know. A mouse’s fragile etchings are displayed, Between news items of the neighborhood. Down by the creek, the paper’s edge is frayed, Where muskrats tore it in a search for food. An item says the rabbits have their young. The frisky squirrel has taken him a wife. Well, let us hope she isn't too high-strung; He is not the kind to lead a quiet life! Alas, there has been a big increase in crime; The vicious weasels have been on the prowl. Their blood-lust always rises in snow-time; They are even crueler killers than the owl.

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