Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
Ripping paper tears,
tape(d) to the back
of yesterday, rends
asunder the frame
of today’s reality.
Too bad the glue
that held the lives
in place, frame-wise,
could not extend
to the flesh and blood
heart-wise.
~~~~
going through family photos and sorrowing over the lives of people torn apart by life.
There but for the grace of God go I.
Summertime is either noisy busy, with houses full of now-at-home children and the moms who want to make the most of the days, or, well….just plain busy. God is in all of it–the kidsounds and joy–and in the quiet, when we can coax it out of our day. Here are some shhhhhh…..thoughts for finding the…
“I don’t know what to do, Lord.” Me–buried, brain full of tasks and to do’s, worried there’s a Right Way to Go. I SO don’t want to miss it. As if. As if God had an opinion on closet cleaning versus photo organizing versus gardening or muffin making or Bible reading. As soon as the…
spent some time with the family recently. A lot of family….ever felt like this? ~~~~~~~~~~~ My train of thought often veers off track taking side journeys to sights unknown. I’ve jumped the rails, freight cars airborne, leaving passengers in my wake, schedules in hand, confused, wondering– did they miss the whistle at the station— ’cause surely,…
Writing comes from listening, so I’ve taken quiet steps outside away from the loud to hear better. Eyes open this time to see AND hear–this– the delicate drops of fuchsia, ballerinas fluttering like so many upside-down firecrackers, fragile, full of beauty dropping feathery tendrils to the silent air.
Golden oil in a bottle liquid light refracting sun in shimmers a mirrored shape reflects on the surface and I wonder at the drop, drop, drops of light as they drip, drip, drip down. All this tasting joyfulness because something was crushed and pressed, leaving light.
Across the dining room chairs over the lamp and past the plants through the window, I spy silhouettes that awaken and dance like the pebbled stones in a child’s kaleidoscope, shape-shifting black against the not quite white night sky. Here the leaves move, there they bend and turn branches like sky-borne seaweed in an ocean…