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Vickie Lou Brady

of

St. Petersburg, FL, US

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Tell me wind.

by

Vickie Lou Brady

Was I once a part of nature
singing high from the tops of trees
Or a blade of grass in lush fields of emerald green
A sparkling brook so crystal clear
Or an endless sky of blue

If I was, carry me back
To the peace that's know as nature.


Flying

by

Vickie Lou Brady


To touch and taste the essence
Of being one with the wind.
To glide the billowing clouds
In the vast blue sea of heaven.
Drinking in the brillance of
The horizon as you devour
Its feast of beauty.

The Soil.

by

Vickie Lou Brady

Smell the fresh tilled soil.
The radishes were as red as my mama's lipstick.
I took a bite. It was crisp and warm against
my tongue.
The strawberries left stains on my shirt as
if painted by an artists brush.
I knew before the day was out those berries'
would be transformed.
To lay on a bed of sponge cake piled high
with whipped cream.
Then tomatoes begging to be picked from the vine.
Mama would spend hours over the stove
putting them in fancy jars.
Stewed she called them.
I just liked to take a big bite out of one.
The juice would trickle down my chin.
More than anything I like to feel the soil
run through my fingers when I planted all those seeds.
I loved the smell of fresh tilled soil

Lost

by

Vickie Lou Brady

Lost and weary
What could she do?
Or what could she say
But I love you
Dearest one please stay
Do not send me away.