SIPS OF WINE FROM THE GRAPEVINE

A PUBLICATION OF PATTY’S WORLDS

BY PATTY L. FLETCHER

AUGUST 25, 2026

Hello, Patty’s Worlds Faithful Friends and Followers. It’s been a minute or two since I’ve put out a Sips of Wine from the Grapevine post, but today’s post is too spectacular to do anything else.

I’ve been working with and learning from Charles Portolano for many moons. So, it’s a true treat when I am published in any portion of The Avocet.

But!

Don’t take my word for it. Continue reading below to find out for yourself.

Welcome to the Poetry Place where we have a lovely treat for you.
The Weekly Avocet is but one of the lovely things Charles Portolano does.
This week’s issue has a lot of lovely poetry and photos. I’m regretting now, not sending Charles the photo I have of geese walking in the parking lot across the street. Yet I’m grateful to stand alongside so many such as Sponsoring Member Ann Chiappetta.
Let’s enjoy this poetic piece filled with nature’s beauty together.
If you like a poem you see here write to the poet and say so.

The Weekly Avocet – #716

August 23rd, 2026

Hello to our Poets and Nature-lovers of The Avocet community:

Gold and blacks don’t share

hummers fight and chase the brew

backyard feeder wars

Aimé E. Duclos – South Berwick, ME – ajduclos47@gmail.com

A group of birds on the beachDescription automatically generated with medium confidence

Submitted by Edwina Kadera

Closure

(for Robert “Bobby” Lyons)

Heard the news today–

first one of the “boys” has passed,

never to see, to talk to, or be

touched by this old friend again,

gone, roommates for two years

before our male brains took shape.

We’ve walked this shoreline

often as young men,

looking for lovely ladies

in little bikinis–

the competition always

fierce between us.

Days of us being dazed–

being young, free

far away from the waging war,

making our way through school–

We had a lot of laughs together,

I learned a lot from you.

Walking away with a degree,

while many of our peers

died in the dark jungles of Vietnam,

never to come home, but

a woman came between us–

competition fierce between us.

The yin and yang of time

has a way to wash away

what was once thought fated–

fast friends’ lives take

different twists and turns

that life throws at us to test us.

Heard the news today,

a sense of sadness, a stillness,

overwhelms me as the low tide

pulls away from the shoreline

and the bold sun slowly starts

to dip below the horizon.

The roaring red sunset

reminds me of your laugh–

loud, proud, oh, how you

loved to laugh, loved

to get others laughing,

even at your own expense.

The scattering of the light passing

through Earth’s atmosphere

so breathtaking as if

your spirit is finally free

for each ending

is really just a new beginning. Charles Portolano

Yes, sparks were flying. I was greatly moved by the articles I shared with you over the last two weekends about hummingbirds and sunrises and sunsets. After reading those articles sparks were flying in my head. A poet must always be on the lookout for sparks.

On the Horizon

We wake, we wait, we watch,

as we walk the shoreline

the dark line on the horizon

is suddenly a sliver of light

spreading across the skyline,

a spark of light ignites

as the sun slowly rises,

we feel blessed to get

another dawn together, a gift

granted by the Goddess Gaia

as the earth’s surface kisses

the vista good morning

shattering the darkness

for a new day is upon us

from darkness to light

sunup is a chance to leave

the past behind and embrace

the promise of another day

for our gratitude grows

as the sun goes higher,

finally overhead–midday,

its beauty, its warmth

evokes a sense of calm,

a sense of harmony

as we stroll hand in hand

connected to something far

greater than ourselves,

as the sun moves us along, we

follow the sun’s daily path and

when the sun starts its descent,

and the moon’s glow appears,

I watch your slim silhouette

dancing across the horizon

as the wave’s rhythm

graces your every move,

the passion-red sunset

brings this day to an end,

another day of our love

being watched from above. Charles Portolano

Break of Day

I parade myself down to the shoreline,

sit in the wet sand, connected,

to make my peace with the planet

just at the crack of dawn

when first light shines

on the true horizon, kisses

the night goodnight

as the sun’s gentle glow grows

the deeper I get to breathe,

breathing with ease with the waves

gently ebbing and flowing

I watch the darkness being

overtaken by the light of love.

I feel blessed to get another dawn

as the sun’s warmth brings

an inner peace, a stillness,

to me alone, down by the shoreline

with the sun rising above the skyline

a sacred time to meditate,

a time to connect to my spark

of the divine, the stardust,

that dwells deep inside each of us.

I pray for forgiveness for my laziness,

my moments of weakness, my envy.

I ask to let me rise up,

to foster a moment of self-reflection

to work to bring warmth to others,

to let, get, my internal rhythm aligned

with the flow of the universe

as the sun, the symbol of hope,

spreads its influence on the day,

a balm for my questioning soul,

I let the past seep into the sands,

writing the names of those

who have harmed me in the sands

and watch as the lapping waves

wash away the pain they caused.

I close my eyes and feel my being

spirited away to another realm

of happiness where each sunrise

is seen as a gift from above

as the sun’s glowing love grows. Charles Portolano

Sunset Memories

Our lives on earth follow

the same path as the sun rises to

sunsets the days draw to an end–

each day is different as is each sunset

than the day before and now

in the sunset of my life, I find myself

at the water’s edge

early every evening I can,

listening, opening myself up

to the gentle lapping

of the low tide pulsating, allowing

me to let go, to finally calm down

by the water’s edge

where all life came from,

for it seems, even in dreams,

sunsets echo my memories

as each evening is a kaleidoscope

of different colors, shapes, shades,

constantly changing patterns

easing me into the evening,

granted the gift of another day,

to make a cosmic connection

under a gentle, golden sunset

symbolizing fulfillment,

purple the lushness of life,

blue calms us, gives us clarity,

and then there are those magical,

multicolored sunsets, striking,

such spectacular sights of

the vibrant, diverse, rainbow hues,

like life itself on earth,

symbolizing the richness

of our existence on earth,

vibrant and diverse,

as the sun dips below the horizon

knowing each ending promises

a new beginning, a chance to change,

making me wonder how many more

sunsets will I get, be gifted, unknown.

But when the sun finally sets

on my time here on earth,

I want to go knowing that I

was the hero of my own story,

a multicolored one in all its glory. Charles Portolano

Hummingbird Nectaring on Lavender A vibrant male Broad-tailed Hummingbird (Selasphorus platycercus) hovers gracefully, its iridescent green and rose-pink gorget shimmering, as it sips nectar from delicate purple lavender blossoms. The bird’s wings are a blur of motion, captured mid-air in a lush, natural garden setting. Hummingbird Stock Photo

We are always looking for new poetic voices singing of their love of Mother Earth. Please forward this issue to someone who writes about Nature.

The Avocet stays fresh when new voices are always being introduced.

Hummingbird Happiness

(for Valerie – our hummingbird)

A down day, alone again,

for the sun has run away,

with an overcast sky bleak,

warm, and muggy, unpleasant

as the day is long,

she sits in the shadow

of her weeping willow,

lost in thought, when

suddenly out of nowhere,

hovering inches away from

her face a tiny, glittering,

fearless hummingbird,

she could hear its wings humming,

she could feel the faint fanning

of its furious feathered wings–

unable to take her eyes off

of this little being who spends

its day darting from flower to flower,

chasing after sweetness wherever

it finds it, it will follow whatever

nourishes its spirit to fly free.

Looking up from her lowered head,

this tiny tyke zips from side to

side as her blue eyes follow

allowing her to slowly feel

the aches of her angst leave her body,

breathing becomes easier as

she relaxes her slumped shoulders,

and as quickly as the hummingbird

appeared, the sun suddenly shines

through the gathering clouds

and suddenly she sees, feels,

the importance of being present,

not living in the past

or fearing the future;

living like this hummingbird

focusing on the flowers before it,

focusing on the small blessings

in front of it with

its endless enthusiasm for life,

a message from the spiritual realm,

a beautiful reminder to appreciate life. Charles Portolano

Attention-seeking

Eagle-eyed Ella instantly spies

the alighting female hummingbird

on the tiny twig on the tree

right before her inquisitive eyes,

that light up when suddenly

a Rudy-throated male

appears from out of nowhere,

flying in like a fine piece

of flashy, sparkling jewelry

with his rudy gorget illuminated

by the strong, early morning sun

which catches the eyes of

the perched female, but also

the surprised eyes of Ella

as she watches with such wonder

the male starts his courtship dance

in his quest for love, for a mate.

First, he does a horizontal dance

swaying his tiny body from side

to side, then suddenly his endless

enthusiasm for her love gets him

dashing through the air, soaring

high and speeding back down

again to within inches of her

to repeat these deep arcing swoops

and loops of his mating dance.

This aerial display of love went on

for quite a while with the female

taking it all in as does Ella,

who is surprised, mesmerized,

as her small snout follows the male’s

every move as he swoops and loops

Ella’s head follows making circles

as a faint hint is heard of the male’s

tail feathers wildly fluttering

so fast, vibrating, you could hear

them humming of his love for her,

finally, the female flies away

with the male fast on her tail…

Ella turns to look at me, with her

large, chocolate brown eyes, as if to

say, “What was that I just witnessed.”

Charles Portolano – Fountain Hills, AZ – cportolano@hotmail.com

Free Anna’S Hummingbird Flight photo and picture

What poem did you read that ignited the spark in you to start wanting to write poetry?

How did this poem provoke you enough to want to write? How old were you? Do you still visit and spend time with this poem? Please write a short blurb and share how poetry came to you, then send to angeldec24@hotmail.com. We look forward to reading your blurbs and sharing them with The Avocet community.

“I remember being in Mrs. Hinna’s 8th grade class and hearing her read Richard Cory. I was blown away by the power of that poem. I knew at that moment I wanted to live my life as a poet. My two friends in the class laughed at me when I told them how much I was moved by Edwin Arlington Robinson’s 16-line poem. So many of the adults around me when I was young wanted lots of money, but after reading Richard Cory, acquiring money would never be the focus of my life. I have read that poem countless times over my life, and I think on it often.” – Charles Portolano

When Nature thrives, people prosper.

sturgeon super moon

rising above the water

peach against steel blue

Gay Marie Logsdon – Oak Ridge, TN – gmarielogsdon@gmail.com

Ella and me on the lookout for hummingbirds

Summer Sunrise

I am looking

out my window

to an active morning

of crows

flapping their large

black arms

as they caress

the crowns of trees.

Robins are shopping

the lawn for worms.

A woodpecker is drumming

the “Funeral March”

on my roof.

A catbird and cardinal

are singing

in the bird bath.

Everything is ready

to start and begin

while a Great-horned owl

lands on the Norway spruce

and calls it a day! Brad Vickers

Summer Sunset

The sunset now

is crimson-red,

shining

on cloud formations,

taking the shape

of a castle

with gate and turrets.

A flock of geese

fly towards it.

The gate will open.

They will stay the night,

and return

with a treasure trove

of tomorrow’s light.

Brad Vickers – Lambertville, NJ – cportolano@hotmail.com

Sometimes I Float

Sometimes the steady sound

of the breeze bustling

the trees

soft staccato song

of the goldfinch

announcing departure

from the feeder

gentle river ripples

lapping the shore

giggle of a little lass

filling plastic china

high tea with her mom

on the back porch

Sometimes the smell

of the cedar grove

wafting on the wind

fresh baked bread

cooling on the windowsill

with a steaming apple pie

Sometimes the sight

of a bald eagle

soaring on high

a deer grazing the fields

as her fawns frolic

clouds re-sculpting

into new visions

while sailing the sky

All lift my spirit

feed my senses

comfort

calms

A soothing silence

in the midst

of a turmoil

that cannot be

escaped

Sometimes

my soul rejoices

Aimé E. Duclos – South Berwick, ME – ajduclos47@gmail.com

It’s Going to Rain on Monday

When August begins, the hydrangeas bloom

And die, then bloom again.

The heat swells everything it touches,

Daring life to grow under its suffocation.

I, too, push against the wilting.

There’s a hose coiled on the side of my house

With a tear hollowing out its middle.

The thought of patching it waned

When a sprinkler took its place,

But now that’s broken too.

In the suburbs, the lawn yellows

In the middle of the year

When things like these are overlooked.

The clouds break from humidity

And buy us another week of denial;

It’s easy to be lazy in the summer.

Annelisa Milano – Rockville Centre, NY – annelisawriting@gmail.com

What the animals say

Hound sang the chasing song

And Crow spoke of bad tidings

Squirrel soared and leaped, leaped and soared

Dislodging tree nuts

To clatter and bounce

Down down down

On route to the ground

Along the leaf highway

Ann Chiappetta – Monroeville, PA – anniecms64@gmail.com

Heat, humidity, and cloudy skies–

August in Virginia.

I stand beside the creek on an unusually clear, cool morning and long for fall.

For cool breezes. For crunching leaves. For school buses rumbling down streets, while geese walk the sidewalks and congregate in parking lots talking excitedly about their upcoming trip.

For hot chocolate at the Blackbird Bakery up the street, cinnamon rolls, too.

Fall, I love you.

Please hurry.

Fall, Please Hurry

Patty L. Fletcher – Bristol, VA – patty.volunteer1@gmail.com

morning after rain

blooms stand out, colors refreshed

green moss awakens

Gay Marie Logsdon – Oak Ridge, TN – gmarielogsdon@gmail.com

Summer Sonnet

We walked to the gates of Innisfree.

A red-haired woman at an easel

sat painting broad brushstrokes of lemon and green.

The vibrance nearly made my heart go still.

And through the prickly pines, and maple fringe

that feathered our cheeks like plumes of a quill,

a meadow of wildflowers meandered in.

Daisy heads, and orange poppies high on a hill.

We heard the trickle of a waterfall,

and felt its spray of water cool us.

From the woods, a chattering call.

We walked toward sound delighted

at sight of goldfinches trilling,

and bluejays jeering.

A day out in nature, I hold dearly.

Sara McNulty – Staten Island, NY – sablonde49purple@gmail.com

Silver Solitude

The moon exhales a breath of silver light

And casts a sheen across the restless deep,

An anchor for sea vessels in dire plight,

Ere moonlight fades where hidden hollows sleep.

I hear the ocean’s vast and rhythmic roar,

Where silent thoughts and tranquil shadows dwell.

A gentle hush descends upon the shore,

As peace drifts in from reef and windy swell.

The moonlit waves retreat in frothy sighs

To leave their secrets sketched upon the sand

And trace a path across the chartless sky,

As languid tides sweep softly to the strand.

A place where weary seekers ebb and flow,

A harbor of contentment for the soul.

Tina Robinson – Oak Ridge, TN – justinarob12@gmail.com

Green Pastures

The wind carries a scent of sweet clover And freshly cut hay as I make my way to the meadow.

The pastureland, a vibrant tapestry of greens and gold Stretches as far as the eye can see, melting into the celestial blue heavens.

The sunrays dapple the tops of the tall, swaying grass,

Creating mosaic splashes of light dancing within the shadows.

Butterflies, like painted jewels, flit between the wildflowers

Adding a splash of color to the verdant landscape.

The rustic barn compliments the natural setting of the countryside.

I close my eyes, remembering the lowing of the Jersey cows While they nuzzled against me, their sandpaper tongues tickling

My palms as they scooped up the sweet feed cupped in my hands.

The fence spanned across the open fields. I could almost see Grandpa holding his straw hat, Wiping the moisture from his brow with his red bandana.

Muscles ripple in his arms and chest while he hammers pole after pole of new fencing.

I remain transfixed while the sun fades below the horizon,

And allow the familiar sights and sounds of the pastureland

To coax me back to simpler times,

The innocence of childhood.

Tina Robinson – Oak Ridge, TN – justinarob12@gmail.com

Ode to the Orchid

Queen of the lily family,

your charm and complex

beauty wows judges,

makes devotees swoon.

I’m an ardent admirer,

pleased to bestow

your cherished glamour

on my true love,

best in lavender tones.

A favorite subject

of still life artists.

Your geometric shape

a natural marvel,

stunning architectural creation.

Frank Lloyd Wright

surely felt jealous.

Wesley Sims – Oak Ridge, TN – wes4words@att.net

Green on Green

Dinner time,

leaf by leaf by blade by wave,

a museum of shapes,

salad bowl of colors appears,

wraps the campground

green on green all around–

oak and hickory sport jackets of jade,

sweet gum stirs with avocado,

cedar trees season with olive,

pine branches accent with lettuce hue,

their new shoots smeared in celery.

Mustard shine of willow and sycamore

leaning over the river.

Darker tones cascade in the distance,

purple-patinaed leaves line far ridges.

Kale colored algae splotches the water’s

surface. Cucumber reeds rise to camouflage

stalking of white heron.

Lime green grass pickets the edge,

where the emerald liquid laps the shore.

Wesley Sims – Oak Ridge, TN – wes4words@att.net

“In a world where you can be anything, be kind.” – Dr. Seuss

Earth Mother Rages

Why do I try to write? Mercury is retrograde

again. The dinosaurs are gone,

leaving only bones and trails of mystery.

A squirrel pours down a tree

in Veterans’ Park. His Tree of Life?

Lucky rodent is he

who lives outside the shade of

The Tree of Knowledge.

Perhaps,

but he is destined to deal

with the deluge, the detritus

as man continues to learn,

to discern good from evil.

With each lesson

The Tree of Knowledge

loses a limb here, a branch there.

The Mother, we say,

She is in labor, painful contractions,

bringing forth new earth–

an allegory brought down

from before the days of

tinkering with electricity.

Do we need a new story?

Is She, perchance, pitching the mother of

all tongue-lashings

toward man’s ever-growing

need for electricity,

his electromagnetic fingers

tickling, tickling her to the core

till she shudders, throws off her mantle,

quakes and shocks, pitches rocks,

breaks plates, spits vitriol across,

over, under, into, and through

man’s tinkering ways?

Is this why I try to write?

Cheryl Miller – Canon City, CO – camcraig49@gmail.com

Please feel free to share The Weekly Avocet with all those you know who love Nature poetry. Thank you! It’s free, just email us your email address…

I’ll Have An Ice Tea And…

Thin layers of golden clouds

laced with honey

baking in the western sky.

More precious than diamonds,

unbearably rich,

this lovely lozenge

is meant to be savored–

nibble by nibble,

bit by bit,

piece by peace–

this baklava sunset.

Cheryl Miller – Canon City, CO – camcraig49@gmail.com

palms of gray and white,

granite and snow, unfold to

receive azure grace

Cheryl Miller – Canon City, CO – camcraig49@gmail.com

Horizons Broadened

A breeze blew in from the bay

above the rhythmic slaps of salted seaweed.

Scent of fish overwhelmed memories

of lilacs and field corn.

Screeches of gulls accosted ears

accustomed to gentler calls

of wrens and robins,

melodies of meadowlarks.

Pacific humidity is so different

from that of humid Illinois

where muggy sunsets drop

cherry tomatoes off the edge of town.

Land-locked views are blocked by

oak-clad hills, by

the neighbor’s windbreak, by

the view from the kitchen window.

Cheryl Miller – Canon City, CO – camcraig49@gmail.com

Field of Sunshine

while on a summer walk

along our rural road, I pause

captivated by a field

of brilliant canary yellow

daisy-like blooms swaying

in the toasty breeze

I fall into the calming rhythm

the coreopsis grandiflora

commonly known as

large flower tickseed

extend a cordial greeting

a favorite among pollinators

honey bees and butterflies

flit from flower to flower

unlike me, coreopsis grandiflora

tolerates the heat and humidity

a perennial resistant to drought

and to deer and rabbits

their beauty and resilience

warm my heart

and lift my spirit

all summer long Suzanne Cottrell

Summer Fades

Nearing the end of summer

one evening while I wash

the dinner dishes, I peer

through the kitchen window

I chuckle upon seeing

two white-tailed fawns

gambol in the woods

their mother close by

brings back the memory

of calves frolicking

in an alfalfa pasture

on my grandpa’s Indiana farm

now, I envy

their uninhibited freedom

as I finish the dishes

the fawns disappear

from my view

time for weaned fawns

to forage for forbs

or wild blackberries

before all bed for the night Suzanne Cottrell

Evening Meal

Within the dusk

to dawn light,

dark brown furry creatures

swoop and loop in the evening sky.

Within the light,

bats seek a meal

of mosquitoes and moths.

Within the light,

I duck and cover my head,

an image of a bat

entangled in my hair.

Within the light,

their echolocation

prevents a collision.

Within the light,

grateful, I lift my head,

lock my eyes on a bat,

track its acrobatic maneuvers.

Within the dark,

I stroll to the house.

Once inside, I delight

in fewer mosquito bites.

Suzanne Cottrell – Oxford, NC – cottrell_suzanne@yahoo.com

Please be the reason someone smiles today…

The Burning Question for us Earthlings is:

What are you/we going to do to stop or even just slow down Climate Change?

Do you feel like there is nothing you can do about climate change?

Well, there is, even if we all do small things it will make a great difference. Alice C. Hill (the David M. Rubenstein senior fellow for energy and the environment at the Council on Foreign Relations.) states the first thing we all need to do is not shy away from the subject. Talk about, write about, climate change to everyone you know and meet. Write to your congressperson and Senators. Let them know what you think and fear!

I want to have, at least, one Saving Mother Earth poem in each issue of The Weekly Avocet, so I am always looking for poems that address our most important issues of today, so please write about what you think and fear of the coming end of our world as we know it. A world our great grandkids will never know. A Mother Nature who is no longer kind.

But if we join together, maybe, just maybe, working together, we can make a difference to Save Mother Earth, the only home we have. Show you care. There are so many topics to write about when it comes to Climate Change. Please find one you are passionate about and write about it!

Write a Tell-off poem letting the world know what you are feeling about what is being done right before our eyes by those who claim to want what best for all of us.

Think it out in your head, then put it down on the page, then fight with it, get your rage out, then send it to us to share, so you can see your voice, your words, being read, being heard…

Please think about becoming a supporting member of The Avocet community. The Avocet is only $28.00 for 4 – 60 pages, perfectly bound issues and 52 weeks of The Weekly Avocet, every weekend, plus other poetry surprises, with the best Nature poetry by the best Nature poets in America, a steal of a deal.

Please make your check out to The Avocet and send to:

Charles Portolano/The Avocet

9750 N. Monterey Dr. – Unit #3

Fountain Hills, AZ 85268

All donations are greatly appreciated, so if you have been enjoying all the Nature poetry, please think about making a small donation. Each year it gets harder and harder to keep our doors open. Thank you for supporting The Avocet and The Weekly Avocet.

The American Avocet

I watch unseen this large,

long-legged shorebird, with its pied plumage and a dash of red around its head and neck, scampering along the coastline searching to snatch-up some aquatic insect or a small invertebrate hidden beneath the brackish waters of this saltmarsh. I watch unseen it swing its odd, long, up-curved bill through the shallow, still waters, catching a tiny creature, trapping it in its bill, racing off to its nest to feed her four hatchings with this feast she found. I watch in awe as the male grows protective, fearlessly fending off an encroaching common black raven, attacking this intruder, striking at it with its bill. I watch in wonder as they swim as a family just days after the young ones are born, then back to the nest to rest where its kind flocks together in a community.

Charles Portolano – Fountain Hills, AZ – cportolano@hotmail.com

We hope we provoked you; that you leave having experienced a complete emotional response to the poetry found in each issue of The Weekly Avocet. I want to thank our Poets for sharing their work with us this week. And “Thank you for reading, dear reader!”

Be well, see you next weekend,

Charles Portolano, Editor/Publisher and Vivian and Valerie Portolano, Co-Editors

of The Avocet, a Journal of Nature Poetry and The Weekly Avocet, every weekend.

Copyright © 2026 by The Avocet (for our poets)