Poetry Verse and Rhyme from 🌳Ent

ITTY BITTY DITTY

One does not grow through but what is now done.
One does not learn sitting in the same place.
One is not more known, through staying hidden.
One only expands, when need is more grace.

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(This one was written to a member in response to a sharing/question.
Moved here (slightly altered) for future consideration - deserving, perhaps, of more development)_

The wind unfolds its unseen hand from which words flow abroad, unplanned.
And words seek home and hearth to bless, when into pleasing form they press.
Yet without aid the words are naught; they float astray, unknit, unwrought.

Not one goes forth without its use. Unless employed, it's but abuse.
Should e'en one fall while still unheard, it ne'er again can be conferred
with purpose for which it was sent - out into universe was lent.

What shall we do with wind's great gift - so much it gives to us to sift
into rich melodies to hear - into our lives its richness sear,
lest we should pass through to life's end bereft of all those words would mend.

For wind's hand does not open wide to send things forth for us to hide.
It whispers forth a gallantry - a hope, a chance, a majesty
trusting its offerings will land in welcome, molding, crafting, hand.

Mr. Frog's Frond Hat

While walking along we saw a big cat
into whose paws dropped a nice, pretty hat
blown off its perch from atop a big log
where earlier it'd been set by a sheep dog.

The hat had been knit from fronds in the bog
by that clever fellow - old Mr. Frog.
Now Mr. Frog's work is of great beauty,
awards it would win, if others could see.

There Mr. Frog sat, admiring his work,
and in it could find not a single quirk.
But as such things do, it attracted a gnat,
which Mr. Frog knew would bring Fringe-lipped Bat.

Now frogs are a delicacy, don't you see,
to bats of the Fringe-lipped variety.
"Get rid of this hat" Mr. Frog therefore thought,
pitching it windward because he was fraught.

The wind blew it onward - it went a great way,
dropping on grass where the sheep ate that day.
But Sheep Dog seeing it come to the ground
didn't want it to be by sheep's mouth downed.

"So pretty this hat" the good Sheep Dog thought.
"Surely by talent this thing has been wrought."
Knowing that people in such things delight,
he set it atop a log in plain sight.

The wind kept blowing, disturbing the hat,
until along came a most seemly cat,
into whose paws the wind blew the nice thing
hoping to people the hat it would bring.

The wind cannot know what stray cats might do,
but felt this might be its only chance too.
So when we saw the hat drop in its paws
to it we we went to take hat from its claws.

But wiser than most, this cat seemed to us.
It gave us the hat without any fuss.
Mr. Frog's work now in all its beauty
sits splendored on shelf, for many to see.