The Mournful Demise of Ben the Raccoon

Hi.

Are you expecting another Chicky Chick story? Well, that isn’t what I have for you today. Today I have written a fanciful story about a raccoon. Raccoons like to eat chickens. People like to stop raccoons eating their chickens. I like to write about the above. So, blog post. I hope you like it.

The Mournful Demise of Ben the Raccoon

Ben was a good sort of raccoon. He was well liked among his family and friends, although nobody ever quite believed his fantastic stories. His stories were always about how he outwitted the humans, narrowly escaping danger, and while the bare facts of the tales may have been true, everyone agreed he exaggerated a bit. It was widely acknowledged, however, that Ben was the craziest raccoon in the state. The truth of the matter was, he was more than a little hurt, because he faintly realized nobody believed him. So after a bit or so of stolen whiskey, Ben would get brave enough and mad enough to try to prove his bravery and truthfulness. Everyone who knew Ben had seen foolhardy displays of good ol’ raccoon daring many, many times. It was not an uncommon occurrence for one raccoon, upon meeting a friend, after pleasantries were exchanged, to say something along the lines of, “You remember when Ben….”

“Remember when Ben” was so common a phrase among the raccoons of that area, it has been debated whether it should actually be considered a greeting in the local dialect. They’re still arguing about it, and my guess is, they’ll still be arguing about it twenty years from now, when the raccoons have forgotten why they even say it……although, I don’t quite think they’ll ever forget Ben.

There was a thousand and one stories about Ben, and nearly as many raccoons eager to tell them. Go find Bob- not Bob-that-lives-in-a-tree-stump, I mean Bob-that-lives-in-a-barrel- and ask about Ben, and he’ll tell you about the time Ben tried to parachute off a shed with a plastic bag. Run across Helen and she’ll chat with you for hours about the time he tried to get in a human’s house to get some more whiskey (they ran out at the party across the street) and got stuck halfway down the chimney. Track down Todd and he’ll talk about how when he was a kid his Uncle Ben got him to wake up a hibernating bear, which leads us to another common phrase among the raccoons, specifically raccoon parents. “Don’t listen to Ben,” mothers whispered in their childrens’ ears and fathers lectured to teenagers. The children had grown up hearing those words, and it was really out of tradition they were spoken more than anything else, because both they and their parents knew full well they weren’t going to listen, just as their parents hadn’t listened to their parents before them.

Once in a while a raccoon would try to leave Ben off the guest list for a party or barbeque or so. Despite not being invited, despite the raccoon in question trying as hard as any raccoon ever had to keep the gathering a secret from Ben, inevitably Ben would saunter in, making bad jokes and talking about how he’d just narrowly escaped death.

Despite Ben’s shenanigans, nay, because of them, every raccoon in the area knew and liked Ben, and every raccoon in the area missed him when he was gone. And here we have arrived at the mournful part of our story, which, up until now, has been rather humorous, I hope.

It was a dark and stormy night. Ben was coming home from a late night at a housewarming party, informing the new raccoon family of his many adventures. (The family had been told about Ben, and had already heard about his more comical and much more truthful escapades). Ben had had a good time, but the food wasn’t to his liking, and he was strongly considering going to the chicken coop at Crazy Lady’s and grabbing a bite to eat, but it was more than a mile detour. He was deep in thought on this subject when it happened. That sad, terrible thing happened. He smelled a marshmallow.

Ben had a notorious sweet tooth and he especially liked marshmallows. He was well known for sticking a marshmallow or two (or three or four, it depended on many marshmallows he had and how long the party had been going on), in his adult beverages. As this account shall prove, his fondness of sugary treats was his downfall.

Ben instantly began following the smell, never hesitating. Another raccoon might have, especially after Cousin Kyle disappeared near that very same area the marshmallow smell was coming from. But Ben was too brave to turn back. At least, that’s what he’d like you to think. Really, not to speak ill of the dead, he was just too foolish.

Ben followed the smell to a shed. Behind the shed was a small metal cone. Ben saw the marshmallow inside. He reached his paw in, and, oh, the horror, he started to pull out the marshmallow- and he couldn’t! His hand was trapped.

At first, Ben didn’t realize what danger he was in. But as he tugged and tugged, then yanked and yanked, he realized…..he had been tricked. The marshmallow was a cruel scheme, designed to lead unsuspecting, innocent raccoons to their death! (There are many chickens that disagree about the innocence of raccoons). It seemed Ben had found out what happened to Kyle.

Ben began to shout for help. He no longer cared if the humans heard him, if he didn’t shout for help, he was done for, but if he shouted for help and someone heard him, he would be saved! Ben did not stop to think how his rescuer would free him. It was futile, at any rate. No one could hear him scream. Except for That Guy.

That Guy had been woken up by Ben’s cries, and was now trudging to the shed. He was rather grumpy at being woken up. He was in no mood for mercy. What happened next I’m sure you know, it is too terrible for me to describe in much detail. The end result of Ben’s encounter with That Guy, was Ben being unceremoniously stuffed into a garbage bag and tossed in the trash.

Alas, that was the end of Ben the Raccoon! Ben was unique. There had never been a raccoon like him, never has been, and never will be. Farewell, Ben, you will be missed.

Photo by anne sch on Pexels.com

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it. It was fun to write, no offense to raccoons. Then again, why do I care if raccoons take offense? They want to eat Chicky Chick. Go away, raccoons.

The Adventures of Chicky Chick: Volume Three

“…one should never underestimate a chicken.” -Kylli Berg

The Adventures of Chicky Chick: Volume Three

Hi.

Today I shall not be posting anything. Pauses dramatically. Then bursts out laughing. April Fool’s! Yes, it is that day. Or at least it was yesterday. I took a while editing this.

Anyway, apparently even the chickens celebrate April Fool’s, because when I went downstairs yesterday, guess what I found? The chicks had knocked their feeder over and it was lying in the middle of the brooder while a chick was standing proudly on the big-stone-brick-thing where the feeder was supposed to be. They seemed quite impressed with their feat.

In all seriousness, I wrote another chicken story.

I like writing chicken stories.

The Adventures of Chicky Chick: Volume Three

Bawk Bawk’s Revenge

It was a quiet night in the brooder. All the chicks were sleeping, dreaming happy chicken dreams. All but one. Bawk Bawk surveyed the insulting sight of her sleeping sisters with an air of disdain and barely concealed anger. How dare they sleep so peacefully when she, the great Bawk Bawk, could not, simply could not, get to sleep! She thought angry thoughts such as these for several long minutes before coming to a decision. Bawk Bawk’s mind was made up. If she could not sleep, nobody could. She began to formulate a plan.

Meanwhile, in the land of dreams, Chicky Chick was dreaming about the sky. She did not know that was it’s name yet, she only knew that when she was young, she had caught a glimpse of the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. A blue expanse that seemed to go on forever. She dreamed of flying up to it, of perhaps, eating it, if it was food. Chicky Chick was sure it would taste better than anything else in the world.

In her dream, she was flying, soaring, up to The Blue. She stretched her neck, straining to get close enough, for just one peck. Just one peck……

Back in reality, Bawk Bawk was ready to make her move. Everything was in place. Bawk Bakw was perched on the very top of the feeder. A grim smile crossed her beak. She stood up straight, her head held high. History will remember this day, thought Bawk Bawk. The day the legendary Bawk Bawk got her revenge. She stretched out her wings and jumped.

Chicky Chick never pecked The Blue, at least, not in that dream. Sensing danger, she awoke in time to witness her sister Bawk Bawk soaring through the air, chirping madly. Chicky Chick’s eyes opened wide in amazement. She thought fast. Jumping up, she flapped her wings frantically, propelling herself into flight. She aimed straight for Bawk Bawk. Chicky Chick collided with her sister just in time, pushing them both away from the rest of their sisters, and shoving them both to the ground. Bawk Bawk let out an angry screech. “Noooooo!”

Now, while Chicky Chick did stop Bawk Bawk from landing on her sisters with her brave act of daring, the noise both parties made woke all the chicks nevertheless. Sleepy chicks raised their heads in confusion and annoyance. Who had woken them up? The sight the chicks saw was certainly an interesting one. Chicky Chick and Bawk Bawk were circling each other, both chirping angrily. The chicks’ eyes widened. This could only mean one thing. Chicky Chick and Bawk Bawk were going to have a Chicken Duel. This strange custom was centuries old, and how chickens through the millennia had settled disputes. The two chickens dueling circled each other, but the duel could not begin until another chicken stated the reasons for the duel.

Chirp Chirp stood up. The other chicks slowly got to their feet. Chirp Chirp walked forward and stopped directly between Chicky Chick and Bawk Bawk as her sisters watched in stunned amazement. Surely Chirp Chirp did not intend to state the reasons? Chirp Chirp had a well earned reputation for being quite shy. I’m telling you, think of the shyest soul you know, and multiply it by a hundred or so, and that might, might, come close to how shy Chirp Chirp was. I should, perhaps, tell the tale of why Chirp Chirp chose to abandon her timidity………..but not now. Later, maybe. For now we are following the heroic adventures of one Chicky Chick, and we cannot go down side roads such as these, or I fear we shall become lost and never return to our intended destination.

“Will the opposing parties please state their reasons for dueling.” Chirp Chirp peeped in her high voice.

The two chickens began chirping at the same time.

“She was going to-“

“She shouldn’t have stopped-“

“I barely stopped-“

“My revenge-“

“I can’t believe-“

“I was-“

“Stop!”

Chicky Chick and Bawk Bawk stopped and stared in surprise at their shy sister.

Chirp Chirp took a deep breath. “All right, Chicky Chick, you go first.”

Bawk Bawk opened her beak to protest this, but one look from Chirp Chirp silenced her.

Chicky Chick sighed. “I am dueling because Bawk Bawk here,” she glared at her sister, “was trying to wake everybody up. She was chirping loudly and flying straight for us, I barely stopped her in time.”

Somebody muttered that as they were all awake now, she didn’t do a very good job. That somebody was quickly shushed by her sisters.

Chirp Chirp turned her attention to Bawk Bawk.

Bawk Bawk raised her head defiantly. “Chicky Chick was the one trying to wake you up. I’m the one that-“

Chicky Chick cut her off. “So now you’re a liar, too!”

Everyone started talking at once. Some believed Chicky Chick, some believed Bawk Bawk, others weren’t sure what to think, and really just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Quiet!” Chirp Chirp commanded.

The chicks fell silent.

Chirp Chirp quietly related the reasons for dueling.

“The reasons,” Chirp Chirp said, “real or not, have been stated. Let the duel begin.”

So the greatest duel the chicks had ever seen (the only duel the chicks had ever seen, but that wasn’t the point), began. The two combatants flew at each other with fierce determination. The first to be knocked to the ground lost. You could flap wildly, peck, or anything, really, there were few rules in Chicken Duel. Bawk Bawk pecked and pecked. Chicky Chick flapped her wings in Bawk Bawk’s face, hoping to unbalance her. The duel continued. (If this were a movie, I promise you epic fight music would be playing).

After several minutes, the end seemed near. Chicky Chick could barely stay on her feet. Bawk Bawk smiled evilly, and reared back her head for the final blow. Chicky Chick knew one push would knock her over. Chicky Chick closed her eyes sadly.

But then she remembered. She remembered her past. The long trip to the brooder, which she recalled only in bits and snatches. Her first sip of water. Her first bite of food. Endless games of “Who Can Fly The Highest” with her sisters. Discovering the Grey. Wishing for freedom. Trying to escape. Failing. Failing. She discovered the Grey only to have it disappear. She wished for freedom only to see what little she had taken from her. Chicky Chick opened her eyes. She would not fail this time. The tale of Chicky Chick would not be one of despair.

She remembered. She remembered the future, her dreams of the future. She would find freedom. She would peck The Blue. She would fly higher than any chicken before. She would not fail. Not this time.

The chicks watched in amazement as Chicky Chick flew straight up into the air, higher than any of them had ever flown before. Chicky Chick came back down to earth, landing right on top of Bawk Bawk. Bawk Bawk tumbled to the ground. Chicky Chick was the victor.

Here this story ends. It ends, not with defeat, but with victory. Remember the story of Chicky Chick. It is a story of a chicken who dreamed, hoped, and persevered with that endless determination of chickens. It is the story of a chicken that- well, we’ll get to that eventually. Eventually Chicky Chick will face her greatest challenges, her greatest hopes, and her greatest fears. Eventually she will face an enemy so great………some will wonder if she can win. But I believe one should never underestimate a chicken. It’s usually a bad idea.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it. Chicky Chick certainly has interesting adventures, does she not? But the greatest adventures are yet to come….

Now for a quote, again, from one of my previous posts,

A Warm Day

“In the north,

when the snow is melting and the birds are singing.” -Kylli Berg

The Adventures of Chicky Chick: Volume Two

Hi.

Were you expecting a poem? I’m afraid you shall be disappointed. For I am at this point in time more interested in Chicky Chick’s adventures. Perhaps Chicky Chick should become a poet………what would chickens write poetry about? Delicious bugs? I know, I know, you are all so happy I have brought to your attention a most important question, what would a chicken write poetry about, if a chicken could write poetry.

However, in this exciting edition of The Adventures of Chicky Chick, Chicky Chick shall pursue a different occupation…

Well, here is what you have all been waiting for. Another chicken story.

I hope you like reading it. (I liked writing it).

The Adventures of Chicky Chick: Volume Two

Chicky Chick Wishes for Freedom

Chicky Chick the Remarkable Explorer

The Great Explorer

It was a warm and food-filled day. The other 7 chicks were content with their life in the little green storage tub, but Chicky Chick dreamt of more. Chicky Chick dreamt of freedom. For many hours now, Chicky Chick had begun to think of what lay beyond their tub. Were these plastic walls and floors all there was to the world? No! Chicky Chick could not believe, would not believe, that this was all there was to life! Chicky Chick yearned for more. Her mind was made up. She would do what her sisters had not the strength to do. She would venture beyond these green plastic walls. She would leave her home. She would explore what lay beyond!

Chicky Chick’s brave thoughts were rudely interrupted by a strange, terrible sight. A giant stretch of shiny mesh was being stretched over the tub! Chicky Chick stood rooted to the spot in horror. Her plans were shattered before her eyes. Her dreams and hopes were broken into dust and swept away by the wind.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Chicky Chick chirped in terror.

Chicky Chick watched as the tub was completely covered by the wire mesh-almost. There was still a space at the end of the tub with nothing over it! Nothing was there to stop her from taking flight and hopping right out of the tub. How she was to get back in never crossed her mind.

Chicky Chick backed up to the opposite edge of the tub. She would need a running start if she was to fly high enough to clear the wall of the tub. She fixed her eyes determinedly on her goal. Nothing could stop her now. Chicky Chick took a deep breath and started running. The world seemed to slow around her as she started on what could very well be the greatest feat of her young life. Her heartbeat sounded loudly in her ears. One foot in front of the other. She was almost there. She passed the feeder. Her sisters abandoned their dinner to stare in uncertainty at Chicky Chick’s glorious feat of daring. Chicky Chick continued. Soon her dreams would be realized. Nothing stood between her and the wonderous thing we call freedom. She passed the waterer and tensed in preparation for flight. Time slowed to a crawl for Chicky Chick as she began to flap her wings. She was off the ground, she was flying, she was-

A large piece of plywood slid over the opening. Chicky Chick’s sisters watched as Chicky Chick flew straight at it, hitting it and falling to the ground. And in that long fall, Chicky Chick saw everything she had hoped for, everything she had worked so hard for, fall with her. Dreams of freedom, of exploring what lay beyond, turned to dust. There would be no “Chicky Chick the Great Explorer.” She would never return in triumph to lead her sisters out of the tub that was their prison, out into the wonderful world Chicky Chick knew in her heart lay beyond. It was all gone, vanquished by a single piece of wood. Her heart shattered into a million pieces as she fell. If chickens could cry, Chicky Chick would. Instead, Chicky Chick closed her eyes in sorrow and waited to hit the ground.

Hit the ground she did not, instead landing on top of her sister, Chirp Chirp. (Chirp Chirp was not pleased about her role in softening Chicky Chick’s fall, but that’s a different story). Chicky Chick struggled to her feet. Her heart broken, she stared in grim silence at the plywood that had sent her crashing back to earth. Chicky Chick was lost in mournful thoughts of hopes shattered.

Until the thought occurred to her that she was really quite hungry, and her sister Bawk Bawk was eating out of HER feed hole. This she could not let stand. Chicky Chick raised her head high in determination and ran over to inform her sister of her mistake, all thoughts of freedom and exploration gone.

So here our story ends, and the one chronicling Chicky Chick’s great adventures leaves the reader to contemplate the brief career of Chicky Chick the explorer. Will Chicky Chick ever escape? Is she destined to see nothing but the tub? What lies beyond the tub? Does chicken food taste good? I mean….um……bye.

Photo by Brenda Timmermans on Pexels.com

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked my attempt at humor. It was amusing to write. Chicky Chick the Explorer…….(chuckles).

Now for a quote from one of previous poems, as always.

Hidden Again

“The sun peeks out,

throwing back the curtain made of clouds

to gaze upon the earth.” -Kylli Berg

The Adventures of Chicky Chick: Volume One

Hi.

My basement smells like a farm.

Kind of.

It doesn’t smell that much.

Are you wondering, “what in the world is she talking about?”

I’ll tell you.

Chickens.

Baby chickens.

Baby chicks are so cute. They’re cute when they sleep. They’re cute when they drink. They’re cute when they eat. They’re cute when they make short little daring flights that usually result in them waking up and otherwise annoying their sisters/cousins/distant relations/they might not even be related. They’re cute when they try to peck each other’s eyes out- just kidding, that is NOT cute. It is very rude, and I would much rather them peck the doodles I stuck on a piece of cardboard and put in their brooder. But they have different ideas. That is what I am writing about today. After you have read it, I think you will agree these chickens are crazy. Crazy cute. And just plain crazy.

The Adventures of Chicky Chick: Volume One

The Great Discovery

It was a warm and food-filled day. The chicks were happily chirping in their brooder. Life was good. Lots of food, water, and a nice lamp to keep them toasty warm. Sure, there was the occasional fights between siblings, (after all, everybody knew only the three holes closest to the heat lamp were worth eating from) and eyes might have been mistaken for nice tasty bugs once in a while, but for the most part, the 8 young ladies were quite well behaved.

But Chicky Chick had made an incredible discovery. She had been kicking up the pine shavings on the ground, trying to get them in her sisters’ eyes. (No one can now remember why her sisters deserved pine shavings kicked at them). As Chicky Chick kicked some more pine shavings at her sisters, missing and getting pine shavings in the water instead, she saw something incredible. Grey. A hard Grey surface lay underneath the pine shavings. She chirped loudly, a discovery like this needed to be shared. “Hey, come look at what I found!”

The pine shavings aimed at them forgotten, the other chicks rushed to Chicky Chick.

“What is it?”

“Is it food?’

“Is it dangerous?”

“Wait, food?”

“FOOD!!!”

The chicks huddled in a circle, pecking excitedly at the Grey. They pushed and shoved, all wanting to peck at the Grey.

“It’s amazing!”

“It’s incredible!”

“It’s the best thing I ever pecked!”

Then, suddenly, a giant Hand reached down! The chicks scurried away in fright, abandoning the Grey, peeping in distress.

“It’s a monster!’

“It’ll kill us all!”

“We’ll be eaten alive!”

The chicks were wrong about the “alive” part.

The Hand brushed pine shavings back over the Grey, removing all traces it even existed.

The chicks gasped in horror.

“It destroyed the Grey!”

The Hand retreated, and the chicks stood frozen in unbelief, slowly beginning to peep a mournful song of sorrow, for the Grey was gone forever. Or at least for the next few minutes, until the exact same thing happened all over again.

The End.

Photo by Shahadat Hossain on Pexels.com

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it. (By the way, none of them actually have names, “Chicky Chick” was invented for the purposes of that story. I would never name a chicken “Chicky Chick.” Breakfast is a much better name). I’m thinking about making this a regular/sort of regular thing, “The Adventures of Chicky Chick. I think it would be cool, it depends on whether the chicks do anything interesting. I think they will, but you never know. They might just decide to eat, sleep, and basically do nothing interesting enough to write about. But, then again, I have a feeling Chicky Chick might get into many more adventures………maybe.

Well, I’ve talked about chickens long enough, now for a glimpse into the past with a quote from one of my previous poems,

Life

“Bright green sprouts struggle towards the light,

fighting to glimpse the sky.” -Kylli Berg

A Warm Day

Hi,

It was amazingly warm outside today, I felt like I could go swimming!

Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating, but 50 degrees sure feels warm when it’s been cold enough to use the porch as a refrigerator for months. So, here is a poem about the great event of a warm day in early spring. I hope you like it.

A Warm Day

In the north,

when the snow is melting and the birds are singing,

there’s that one day,

that one wonderful day,

when the cold winds of winter retreat for a moment,

and the sun comes out,

and everyone looks at the weather and says,

“It’s 50 DEGREES! Let’s go outside without coats or jackets like it’s summer! It’s so warm out!”

And they scramble outside, blinking at the sunlight.

Kids ride bikes,

adults take long walks,

neighbors chat,

dogs bark happily,

and cars are washed for the first time in months.

Then,

all too soon,

the day is done,

and as the sun sets,

folks sit on their porches and sigh contentedly.

And although the next day it’s cold enough to snow,

and everyone shivers as they put on their heavy coats and scarves,

people say to each other,

“Wasn’t it nice yesterday?”

Photo by Luna Lovegood on Pexels.com

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it.

Now, again, a quote from one of my earlier poems,

The Mistletoe

“I should be preparing for spring,

preparing for the time the sun will shine.” -Kylli Berg

Snow

Hi,

There is so much snow everywhere, and I realize that probably you may think me crazy, here I am writing a poem abut it like you didn’t know all about it, but I wrote a poem about snow, and that’s that.

Hope you like it.

Snow

Snow is cold.

Snow is cold, and terrible in it’s arrogance,

for arrogant snow is,

yes,

arrogant in its sparkle,

it deceptively welcoming light, warm sunlight glinting off it,

turned cold, cold by the snow.

And I love the snow,

yes, yes,

love it,

less,

as the years go by,

for the promise of sledding and snowballl fights,

but for the memories of such things,

memories lying in the coldly smiling snow.

And I hate the snow,

more,

as the years go by,

for the future promises it brings,

of cold, weary, trudges to fill the birdfeeder for the birds flocking to greedily gobble up all the food they can find,

of the horrible things that surely there must be,

brought on by the snow,

which I cannot think of now,

for I do not, after all, hate the snow,

the snow with it’s beautiful sparkle,

the snow with the joy it brings to little children on Christmas Eve,

no,

I do not hate the snow so much.

But I like summer quite well too.

Photo by Maria Orlova on Pexels.com

Now, once again, the words you know so well, here is a quote from one of my previous poems!

Seasons

“Bright smiles

spring coming

hope flying

snow melting.” -Kylli Berg

The Mistletoe

Hi,

I’m sure none of you ever let your Christmas decorations stay up too long.

Nobody does that.

Espeicially not me.

Totally.

The Mistletoe

Christmas is long past,

the season-

it went by too fast,

I should be preparing for spring,

preparing for the time the sun will shine,

but my Christmas tree still stands tall on my porch,

the Christmas towels still hang on the oven and the dishwasher,

the mistletoe still hangs from the ceiling.

The Christmas tree will soon be put away (probably),

the Christmas towels shall be folded and tossed in a drawer,

but

I have a feeling

the mistletoe

will stay right where it is.

Photo by Donna Hamlet on Pexels.com

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it.

Now, again, I shall show you a quote from one of my previous poems, and give you the link to it, so you can read even MORE of my poetry. Is that awesome, or what?

Yeah.

Christmas Secrets

“Whispered secrets,

packages hastily hidden away,

a flurry of excitement is in the air.” -Kylli Berg

Barefoot

Hi,

I am notorious for thinking it’s warmer than it is, and running outside to quickly do something or the other, barefoot, of course.

So I decided to write a poem about, well, um, walking around barefoot.

It sounds a little silly when you say it out loud.

But I think it’s pretty good.

I hope you like it.

Barefoot

Summer.

soft grass

on my feet

as I run

to catch the sky

Fall.

almost too cold

to run

and get the coat from the car

Winter.

teeth chattering cold

rushes in

when I open the door

to dart out and grab the rice

left on the porch

in our giant fridge

that’s only in use in winter.

Spring.

warm or cold

not sure yet

run in the grass

cold wet dew

Photo by Deden Dicky Ramdhani on Pexels.com

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it.

Now for a look at one of my previous poems,

The Wild Clothes

“The Night is Dark and Cold,

As a Barefoot Girl

Runs to Catch

The Wild Clothes.” -Kylli Berg

New Year

Hi,

The most incredible thing in the history of the world has happened. 2020 is over. Whoa. Amazing, right? Now 2021……

Anyway, here is a poem I wrote inspired by the New Year.

I hope you like it.

New Year

A clean slate

like the snow outside

untarnished

until someone steps in it

but

that someone

might make something beautiful

from the snow

leaving it better than it was

before.

Photo by Gantas Vaiu010diulu0117nas on Pexels.com

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it!

Now for a quote from one of my previous poems,

The Lawn and the Mower

“Yesterday I mowed the lawn-

a third of the way, at least.

The Mower went and broke on me,

that giant metal beast.” -Kylli Berg

Christmas Secrets

Hi,

Christmas is soon, so today I am showing you a poem I wrote about the experience of everyone getting gifts for each other and being very secretive about it.

I hope you like it!

Christmas Secrets

Whispered secrets,

packages hastily hidden away,

a flurry of excitement is in the air,

scissors and tape are in high demand around the house,

everyone scurrying about like a mouse,

experienced parents hiding presents in their closets,

independent teenagers (they think) who still need a ride to the store,

giggling children making their first attempt at giving rather than receiving,

and tiny babies who don’t care about anything except whether they can see their mama.

Photo by Lucie Liz on Pexels.com

Thanks for reading this, I hope you liked it!

Now for a quote from one of my previous poems,

Pie

O Pie,

deliciousness in dough,

you graciously grace us with your gracious presence.” -Kylli Berg