ladybuglit

Barren winter tree, all alone,     Robbed of summer green. Now an armored scraggy bark     Silently protests the brazen snow and cold. The fall of life stole your emerald crown     And slowly, one by one, tore your leafy coat apart. Now you must quietly ward off bitter wind and frost     That rips at your hide to reach an inner sappy soul. Dreary, dying outward farce     Deceivingly conceals a warming, springlike growth, Longing to burst forth.     Waiting seems an endless time. Winter cloaks your bland brown body,     Icy fingers tickle your spine, Sending chills from frozen trunk to an apex of knarled twigs.     Frost girths your scaley hulk holding in a future warmth. Spring will welcome your budding anew.     But now you’re etched on a timeless, bleak existence. . . Shades of grey against a whited sky.                                                                 by Nella Rice                                                                                 

Difference prevails today.

For men to help with the dishes

And women to drive trucks,

Men still see no dirt in corners.

No need to regularly check auto oil.

Women still see raised toilet seats,

No need to dress for dinner.

And still women do women’s work.

And still men do men’s work.

Change rarely changes completely.

Nella Rice. Communicator, 1989