Whip-Poor-Wills and Fireflies

By Margaret Rose Green

"Whip-Poor-Wills and Fireflies" is actually a collection of poems that I have written over the years. If you go tothe book'swebsite, whippoorwillsbook.com, you will see a description of the book and the four sections it is divided into. If you are unable to use that as a basis for your description for some legal reason (you work for the publishing company that published the book, so I doubt it), or you wish me to reword it for your ereaders, just let me know. I can whip up something else quickly for you. There is also a biography page at the website that may add insight for your readers, too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477146309

Margaret Rose Green

Margaret Rose Patterson was born and raised in rural upstate New York, along the Black River in the foothills of the Adirondack Mountains. Her early years growing up on a dairy farm outside of Greig, NY (population then about 350) shaped both her love of nature and her strong Christian faith. She completed her B.A. at Union College in Schenectady, NY in 1972 before migrating south to the west coast of Florida. She met her husband, Richard Green, while she was working as a respiratory therapist and he, as a nurse, in the Sarasota area. They married in 1976. She completed her M.A. degree in education at the University of South Florida in 1986 and began teaching high school Science. Widowed after 34 years of marriage, Meg still lives in southwest Florida near her two beloved daughters, Heather and Laurel, and continues teaching in the Sarasota County School System. She has set several of the poems found in this volume to music for performance by local church choirs and by the Venice, FL choral group, Exsultate!, of which she is a proud founding member.

Book preview

EARLY MUSINGS

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Snowflake

A snowflake flutters through the air,

Its beauty, far beyond compare.

Six-sided water, frozen still,

It lands upon a window sill.

Its lacy patterns soon will pass,

For sunlight strikes the window glass.

Unknown, it quickly fades and dies,

Unseen by any mortal eyes.

Its beauty, lost; its hope is gone.

It fell to earth and died anon.

The Last Day of Winter

(A poem of hope)

The bird started suddenly and flew away at my approach.

It soared into the heavens,

head erect,

wings spread,

spirit free.

Its form was lost against the endless blue that was the sky—

Flying on and up into infinity:

without beginning,

without end,

just forever.

Tomorrow I’ll come to the park again.

I’ll stretch out my hand once more

And see whether the bird will stay.

After all, tomorrow is the first day of Spring.

Perhaps things will be different.

Whip-Poor-Will

Persistent, pesky little bird

Who’s quite insistent to be heard:

I wouldn’t mind, but must it be

Every night at half-past three?

Fireflies

Twinkling diamonds of the night,

Pulsing dewdrops made of light,

Soundless symphony of sight:

May you find your love