Behind the Hand
I approach God
like that
little black squirrel
nibbling peanuts
from a man’s hand.
Then freezing
stock still
as if to ask,
Am I supposed to do this?
Is that big man
behind the handful of peanuts safe?
The squirrel decides,
he means no
harm.
He nibbles some
more.
And I remind
myself God intends good for me.
And I am grateful
for family, friends, food
and all the
things He provides.
I close my
eyes.
Type.
Listen.
Good Luck
G ood luck, I
wish you well, a world
O pen to your
dreams and puts you
O n top. Good
luck, I wish you well,
D espite the
downers of life. Good
L uck, I wish you
well. I wish you
U nderstanding,
wisdom, hope
C reativity, adventure,
joy and
K indness. Good
luck, I wish you well.
Jack and the Duck Feather
The huckster knew
how to beguile.
“You need this
charm to go the mile.
It brings the
owner brilliant luck!”
He held a
feather of a duck, and smiled a smile.
“If you have
problems you can’t fix,
Just wave the
feather at the mix.
But at this
price you need to act.
It’s worth a
lot and that’s a fact,” he plied his tricks.
So Jack who
bought the magic beans
And won the
lifestyle of his dreams,
He paid high
price for feather charm.
He was rich, it
would do no harm, or so it seems.
When Jack’s
wife learned what he had bought,
A drawn out speech was what he got.
He listened to
her monologue.
Then had to
sleep with his old dog, out on a cot.
He waved the
feather with a spiel,
But bad luck,
it did not repeal.
He apologized
to his wife,
Then went on
with his lucky life, despite the deal.
With a duck
feather he was stuck,
As sure as shoes in swampy muck.
He learned that
when the salesmen come,
That you win
some and you lose some, and such is luck.
An Invitation
What a fine
invitation
From the one almighty
God
To ask, seek and
knock each day
To meet as we
pray, though flawed.
Lucky
Before my
husband and I were married,
he bunked with
a Mexican man
named Otullio
Lucero,
who owned a
small RV.
He went by “Lucky”.
Every morning,
before Lucky got out of bed,
he would reach
over, pour himself a cup of coffee,
open the
refrigerator, grab a jalapeno pepper
and take a bite
and a swig of his coffee.
He never got
heartburn.
Maybe that’s
why they called him Lucky.
In Like a Lion
The season
entered in a rush
Wind raced
along with a great groan
It played about
and wouldn’t shush
Conviction seemed
to drive it on
Its voice
persistent until dawn
It ended rage
with a long sigh
And peaceful, then,
with one last yawn
The morning
world looked all awry
The yard a mess
with limbs and brush
So spring began,
then came the sun
They went to
the play by choice
The great actor
lost his voice
From the pathetic
applause
They had no cause
to rejoice
Colorado Mountains
Great heights
Treeless tops
Rugged presence
Usually capped
with snow
Distant
Winter
Mounting snow
Dark clouds hover
Ominous icy
roads
Drop offs
Springtime
Migration
Racing rivers
Silver streak
waterfalls
Waking
Summer
Wild flowers
Happy season
Lakes beckon us
to play
Blue sky
Autumn
Color drives
Aspens, scrub
oak, pines
Nature’s artistic
voice
Hiking
Three Rhymes
My muse has
gone away
I hoped that it
would stay a while
With its poetic
style
It brings about
a smile in time
And helps me
make a rhyme
A muse can be sublime
or not
Today my muse
forgot
But I will take
a shot at this
I think that I
will miss
Now, it’s time
to kiss good bye.
Inspired by Psalm 17
The devil roars
since time began
Looking for
ways to destroy man
We are too weak
to end his plan
But the Lord
can, But the Lord can
We are the
apple of God’s eye
He hears our
prayer and anguished cry
And under His
wings we can hide
Yes, He is
nigh, Yes, He is nigh
In Jesus, we receive
His grace
With all our heart,
we seek His face
Someday we’ll
go to His own place
He sets the
pace, He sets the pace
Inspired by Psalm 89
I will exalt Your name with songs
And my stringed instrument
Declaring Your great faithfulness
It’s my sincere intent
To children and grandchildren say,
“In all the earth and sky,
There’s no one greater than the,
Lord”
I lift Your name on high.
You own the Heavens
and the Earth
You calm the raging
sea.
You just say, “Peace
be still.”
And You do that
in me
Creation shouts
Your attributes
Your glory and
Your love
I’ll sing Your mercy
and Your grace
And kindness
from above
Get Green
Get green, stubborn
tree in spring.
Each year I
pray you’ll get green.
Trees around green
up early,
You’re always
late.
Still
winter-looking.
I do not want
you to die.
You shade our
house in summer.
Please, liven
up!
Get Real, Not Fake
Get real
Not synthetic
Fake may last
outwardly
But real marks
us internally
Get Saved Stuff Out of the Garage
A mass of boxes
in the garage, looking like the Wall of China
B oxes of stuff
accumulated over the years
C ollected for
some unknown reason, or more like a million unknown reasons
D eposited in our
garage where our car should reside. Sports
E quipment from
days gone by, computer paraphernalia, tools, ad infinitum
F orgotten and
stashed away, waiting for the day that
G radually
moves down the to-do list waiting for the perfect time
H oarded—should
I dare say that? Surely I’m not a hoarder?
I don’t consider
myself such, I’ll blame my husband. It
may be
J unk, but it’s
good junk. We might need it someday. Stuff
K ept for that “someday”
rarely makes an appearance when you need it.
L ater. It’s
all waiting for later. No
M atter what is
going on in our lives, later is always later.
N ow, can we
get to all those saved things and unsave them?
We’re thankful to be home
O wners. But
our settling in has left us with this unsettled
P lace. It’s up
to me. It’s
Q uite a mess
and haunting me like a ghost. I
R eally made
some first attempts. It’s like the
S ituation with
my crawl space.
T aking time to
clean out
U nder the
house seemed like an impossibility, till we went on
V acation and
the washing machine hose broke and
W ater flooded
the crawl space ruining most of what was stored. I half
eX pect
something bad to happen to the garage if I don’t do something soon. This
Y ear I’m
determined to get that saved stuff out of the garage with some
Z eal, vim and vigor.
Red, Rubber Ball
Oh, you may think I’m just
a child’s play thing.
You see me bouncing ‘round
and having fun.
From floor, to wall, or
ceiling like a spring.
A thwack, a bop, a wallop,
hear me sing!
I keep those little
children on the run.
Yes, hear them laugh as
they toss me about.
They learn to catch and
throw and so take wing.
Oh, watch them scramble
after me and shout.
I’m glad that I am
flexible and stout.
I’m worth my weight in
gold, without a doubt.
“Cuckoo!”
I pop out
Every
hour
To tell them
what I think
Of them.
Strokes are Despicable Thieves
Strokes stole
from my husband and me.
They robbed him
of his deep singing voice
and his clarity
when he speaks.
They took his
ability to swallow
which makes our
meals silent
as he concentrates
on eating without choking.
They walked
away with his ability to walk.
Sometimes when
he’s using his walker
he’ll stand and
hug me while I hold him up.
They pilfered
his pride from his employment.
Thieves often
break things when they
do their
dastardly deeds.
They broke my
husband’s brain
and “emotional thermostat,”
making him
laugh and cry a lot.
But like a
common thief can target electronics
and overlook priceless
heirlooms, they failed
to take his sense
of humor, faith, love and hope.
Fruit of the Spirit
Love is a mother
hen
Standing in the
rain
With wings over
her chicks
Pecking at them
when they misbehave
Joy is a deep
well
With happiness
on the surface
But the live-giving
water
Springs from
the deepest part
Peace is a
foundation
Supporting the
building
Standing
through storms
Strong and
unshakeable
Patience is a good
fishing reel
Bringing in the
fish
No matter how
long it takes
Without falling
apart
Kindness is a butterfly
Cheering people
Making them
feel special
Flitting
happily about
Goodness is a
bar of soap
Fragrant and
cleansing
Pleasing to the
senses
Destroying
contaminants
Faithfulness is
the sun
Still shining even
when
Obscured by
clouds
Giving light
and life
Gentleness is a
muscle man
strong enough
to lift a piano
and sit it down
without breaking it
or making it go
out of tune.
Self-control is
a hall monitor
Telling the
children to slow down
Even when every
fiber of their being
Wants to race
and get there first
Easter Egg Hunt
Growing up in a
country neighborhood,
surrounded by relatives
and close friends,
we had an
Easter Egg Hunt every Easter.
Often we were
dressed in our Sunday best.
The parents and
“big kids” hid the eggs.
We scurried all
over the large yard
which held many
excellent hiding places.
Eggs in branches
where we had to stretch.
Eggs under pines
where we had to crawl.
Eggs in tractor
tires used for flower beds.
Eggs under the
edges of the old water pump.
Eggs in the hay
barn and tool shed.
Eggs under the picnic
table or wooden chairs.
Eggs everywhere
we looked, but often found
neglected ones days
later that we had missed.
Life with the Lord
is an Easter Egg hunt.
Our loving
Heavenly Father often hides blessings.
Blessings we
stretch for, blessing amidst the prickly branches.
Blessings in the
tractor tires and tool shed of work
Blessings in beauty,
blessings to give to others,
Blessing in
shared meals and conversation.
Blessings everywhere,
but some we overlook.
So we put on our
Sunday best and eagerly search.
Villains
V icious people
may have a charming side
I inclined to
put on a front
L eering and
sneering behind your back
L aughing at the
downfall of others
A busing the
power and authority they have
I ndignant at
the success of their enemies
N urturing
their greed with costly pleasures
S urrounded by
those who serve with fear
Villains of the
Bible
Satan who
considered himself above God
Egyptians who
chased the Israelites down and drowned in the Red Sea
The Babylonian
leaders who had Daniel thrown into the lion’s den.
And others who
had the three tossed into a fire
Balamm halted
by a talking donkey to avoid a curse for Israel
Haaman who
designed to kill the Jews, but Esther stopped him.
Sanballat who hindered
Nehemia’s wall-building
King Herod who
murdered children to kill Jesus
Judas who
betrayed Jesus.
Hypocritical
Jewish leaders who did kill Jesus
Jezebel who
tried to end Elijah
Religious Jews
who stoned Steven
There will always
be villains
who stand against
God and his people,
but think they
are doing what’s right.
Child who
tortured mice
Later killed
two neighbor girls
All four parents
crushed
Villains
Out for
themselves
Convinced they
have the right
To perform their
villainous acts
But wrong
Villain
V ictorious at
the expense of others
I llicit behavior,
public or hidden
L eering,
sneering, smirking, ogling
L amenting losses
caused by heroes’ strengths
A busive,
atrocious, apathetic
I nfamous, repugnant,
repulsive
N otorious for
heartless attacks
Change
C hange encourages
progress
H arangues at weak
spots
A dvises to
move forward
N urtures toward
growth
G rabs attention
E ntices to
live an extraordinary life
Changes
Changes creep or
soar
Are quiet or
roar
But one things
for sure, things change
Are happy or sad
They are good
or bad
Just wait, and things
rearrange
Can be exciting
Fun and inviting
Or challenge
you to the core
Can be
intriguing
Zagging and
zigging
And changes can
be much more
Life would be
boring
And set you to
snoring
If it remained
all the same
Changes can be
trying
Though no
denying
Stagnation
would be a shame
Changes to the Neighborhood
We’ve lived in our
little house
in a small town for twenty-two years
in a relatively
quiet neighborhood,
except when soccer
teams played
at the old abandoned school across the street.
Our lady in a
wheelchair, who we used to care for,
liked to sit on the porch and cheer
for whoever
made a goal, whichever team.
Then we got the unwelcome news—
developers purchased
the old school and field.
It would be turned
into an apartment complex.
Our lady wouldn’t
be able to enjoy the games,
but sadly she
passed before the project got going.
But now an army
of construction workers
descended on
the old school property.
I walk by where
there are high piles of dirt
and large square
patches dug out.
Tall beautiful trees
lie dead on the ground.
A contingent of
yellow-vested men work
on the school
roof or run roaring heavy equipment.
I can picture
what it will be like
with the
apartment complex full like a beehive
and cars
buzzing around onto our quiet street.
I don’t think I’m
going to like the change,
but as with any
change, I’ll learn to adjust.
First Kiss
There’s some
confusion about our first kiss.
We both remember
where we were that day.
But things get
jumbled when we reminisce.
“You kissed me
first,” he’ll consistently say.
“No, It was you
who kissed me,” I’ll replay.
One night, he
proposed, but without a ring.
He says New
Year’s and I say Thanksgiving.
So who kissed
who, we do not really know.
And when we
agreed to marry, same thing.
We’ve been hitched
forty-one years, even though.
The First Time Poetry Won Out
I started
writing almost 40 years ago,
beginning with
short stories for kids
and then novels
for teens and adults.
I continued to
write all types of prose
for the next
twenty years, all the while,
shunning any
temptation to write poems.
However, they’d
pop out uninvited
and I’d stuff them
into an envelope
marked poems and
forgot about them.
At a writers
retreat I was asked to read.
I didn’t know
what part of a novel would do,
so I just read
one of my finished poems.
The audience’s
expressions showed me
my poem had
spoken in a way prose could not.
I got out that
old envelope of poetry hodge-podge.
I spent the
next several months on a booklet.
I realized writing
poems was like photography,
taking word
pictures of anything and everything.
That’s how
poetry won out.
First Day of Vacation
The packing
The driving
The eating
The greeting
The wishing
that it won’t
go speeding by,
but it always does.
There once was king who
was keen
On a gal he wanted as
queen
He turned on his charm
Which caused her alarm
And that was the last she
was seen
