poetry

  • children,  photos,  poetry

    Catching fireflies

    The simplest things, The freest in life Like the first twinkle of firefly In the waning summer light Are gifts from on high. Treasures sent to earth To be savored, And enjoyed, As our delight.  

  • neighborhood,  poetry

    a poem, aged 4 years

    Our house on Harvard had a kitchen window that was right next to a busy walkway.  I wrote this poem on April Fool’s day, 2014. ————————————— Windows open, spaces commune. The inside welcomes the outside, private life seeps into public. The clank of dishes drifts outside, the smell of breaking bread teases passersby. It is spring again and life is shared.

  • poetry

    Day after prayer

    Spirit filled room, Hands pressed into My arms, head, back. Powerful words spoken As an act of Heaven Reaching down to Earth. Quiet parts of My heart drawn into the open, Released into the world. Soul renewed for the work Of His hands Via my hands. Single tears pool at the Corners of my eyes And with a smile I cry, “Joy!”    

  • poetry

    The wonder of unfailing love.

    (October 2015) The wood clears making room once again for time on the log just past our line down the hill in the holler next to where the barely creek trickles by. The outside world is nonexistent in this place, deafened by the hills and the trees. Or so I thought, until the voice of an announcer at a nearby park trickled in. Oh well. I come here because I am anxious and this seems like the best self care for me. A pen, paper, and the quiet. Nothing can distract me but God’s glory- and Harvey’s crunching. Plagued with indecision and the inability to stick to a path and…

  • poetry

    “Birthday Dinner”

    I found this poem in my journal from nearly two years ago on Brad’s birthday.  It made me laugh so I thought I would share. Behind schedule. Light grill and when hot enough, put chicken on. Wait. Go to check. Barely cooked. “I’ll give it another couple of minutes”, betray and turn oven up. Transfer chicken, fretting over lost charcoal. Sides wait patiently for their star. Open oven, not enough. Make the difficult decision that often leads to destruction “TIME TO BROIL!”

  • grief,  life,  poetry

    The paradox of sorrow

    Often I think on If Time had dealt a different hand, A life in which My mother still stands. But then I ponder That with her breath, My story would be Unfamiliar, Unknown to me.

  • contentedness,  life,  life together,  poetry,  thoughts

    the fall of summer.

    Free I be. Free I give. Unencumbered beauty gazing into the pinked sky. My shoulders give way to the beauty of the sunset. Releasing hot air as my breath enters steady. A cool sense of freedom draws me close. I am light. He is the light though the darkness dwells over the land. The rhythm of the day balances and I rest.