Counting Days
Anticipating
travel time
To France and
UK, May this year
The details
often overwhelm
To match
time and price with events
We fantasize
of the sublime
Calm and
prevent the niggling fear
To partner
with my traveling Sis
Who likes
hotels and not the tents
Only God
knows what comes to pass
We dream and
plan of what will be
Enjoy the
process with each day
And all the
things that it presents
And though
it seems like hills to climb
I will trust
as departure nears
At home, soft light dispels morning darkness
Reveals cluttered living room
Couch, chairs, coats, books, keepsakes
Spring
Robins hop in the
snow
Spring winks thrilling
intent
Cast off winter coats
Breathe in balmy breezes
Incite inspiration
Spring
S uch a
relief to have survived the winter
P eople out
and about in the sunshine
R obins
making their grand entrance
I
nspiration in every tulip and daffodil
N eeding
snow to go away and be
G one.
God’s Tug
Food on the table
A walk in the ran and the snow
I know
I’m full
And graciously able
To walk, and run, and sing and dance
And romance
Feel Your pull
Of grace by the bucketful
Lord, fill me up to overflowing
For I’m knowing
I am no fool
Though I will be Your tool
To be used in ways You see fit
That is it
Here I sit
And I must admit
My need to abide in You
It’s true
So pull!
Poor Robins
The robins came and they’re
confused.
They hop about and search for
worms.
With frozen worms, they feel
abused—
First day of spring in winter’s
terms.
At piles of snow, not one’s
amused.
They miss the worm that writhes
and squirms.
Poor robins wish that they
stayed south.
Like them, I feel down in the
mouth.
Naughty or Nice
I make
my to-do list
and, like
Santa Claus,
check it
twice.
Will I
be naughty or nice?
Faithfully
checking off accomplishments
or squeezing
in cell phone games,
jigsaw puzzles
and novel reading.
Maybe
not so naughty.
Being nice
to myself
in those
stolen moments
contributes unseen benefits
in body, soul and mind.
New
Adventures
I
walked into the library.
The
first time since 2020.
It
seemed bigger.
I
think they knocked a wall out.
Or
maybe it’s the way they arranged it.
Once
what was familiar,
stretched
out as unfamiliar territory.
I
stepped forward
like
disembarking the plane in Kenya,
looking
forward to new adventures.
My
Heart is His
(A
Rondelet)
My
heart’s Godward
It
reaches up to His embrace
My
heart’s Godward
To
know Him from His Holy Word
Just
to catch a glimpse of His face
Searching
for that comforting place
My
heart’s Godward
Pretty
Posies
Pretty
posies looking lost
Amongst
amber stepping stones
No one
noticed, count the cost
Seeds
settled and left alone
Proudly
portray joy in pain
People pass
by on the path
Get a
glimpse that with the rain
We can
learn to live and laugh
A
Helpful Push
A fair
to midland day at last,
Between
the storms of snow.
Invited
to friend’s mountain home,
That day,
is where I’d go.
I hadn’t
seen her for a while.
We walked
on her plowed drive.
For snow
was high, four feet or so.
Temp
dropped to twenty-five.
I saw
her winter wonderland,
And
smiled and said good bye.
I’d head
downhill to my town home
Where
snow was not that high.
With
snow shoes on she walked her dog.
I headed
out the lane.
I nearly
made it to the road,
But ice
was quite insane.
And
there I sat until she came
And gave
a little push.
The car
was stubborn, stayed stuck there.
It
wasn’t in a rush.
So she
called friends to get some help.
Then I
was on my way.
I
thanked them all for the push out.
Now,
home is where I’ll stay.
Not a
Movie Scene
Strange feelings
nestled in my belly
as I
took in the view
of the
busy street
with the
usual cars, vans, busses
plus old
and tiny cars,
bicycle taxis—
customer
clinging to the driver.
Tall
trellises filled with greenery
to make up
for loss to concrete.
People
scurrying here to there,
not unusual
in a city
but the
number of them!
And
peddler after peddler
accosting
vehicles
selling their
wares: thrift-store stuff
or items
from a discount store,
and bunches
of bananas and
bundles of
taro root.
I watched
through a window
like a
TV screen,
but this
was Nairobi life,
not a
movie scene.
Happiness
and Joy
Happiness
and Joy
strolled
down the same road.
Happiness
skipped
and whirled
about.
Joy asked,
“What makes you
so
energetic today?”
Happiness
replied,
“A smooth
road, fun times,
good food
and friends,
sunshine
and buttercups.
What
makes you so strong
every time
I see you?”
Joy
replied,
“Love,
acceptance, forgiveness.
Knowing I’m
in the Creator’s family.
I like
sunshine and buttercups,
but I
don’t need them to thrive.”
Happiness
twirled about,
“I like
you, Joy,” Happiness said,
“Because
when I’m weak,
you help
me become strong.”
For Me
When my
kids were young,
my
friend and I were writing a book
based in
Hawaii.
She
worked at a travel agency
and found
an affordable deal.
Hawaii,
but we didn’t go.
I had to
ask myself why not?
I
pictured myself as a little girl
walking through
a department store
passing up
dolls, toys and dresses
that weren’t
for me,
because
with five girls
my
parents couldn’t afford a lot.
Then highschool,
college,
raising
young children
carrying
that thought with me
like a
stuffed suitcase.
It’s not
for me.
It’s not
for me.
It’s not
for me.
Then I
started realizing
to
satisfy
this longing
for travel
is for
me.
Just a Bit
A bit of
a loner
But not
by choice
A bit of
a loudmouth
But not
by voice
A bit of
a giver
Without
very much
A bit of
an artist
Well,
just a touch
A bit of
a musician
With
just one song
A bit of
a philosopher
Who’s
often wrong
A bit of
a poet
But not
too poetic
A bit of
a hiker
Though
not athletic
A bit of
an adventurer
Without
much to tell
A bit of
a help
But not
too well
A bit of
a recluse
But love
all the same
A bit of
an enthusiast
For His
Name.
Love
L et my hands
reach up in praise to You
O pening
my heart to Your love
V ivacious
in joy at Your presence
E ternal,
loving, gracious, worthy God
Our Love
Rumbles,
tumbles, pours and plods,
Rattles,
shakes, snakes along like a river,
Bubbles,
troubles, expands and contracts,
Melts,
freezes, wheezes,
But keeps
on keeping on
for forty-three
years and counting.
I Let
the Visions Take Me Anywhere
To Cabo
Verde, isles of green
To Caucasus
Mountains seldom seen
To
Australia with animals unique
To Mount
Fuji at its peak
To
Komodo Nation Park to see the Komodo
To
Lapland—northern lights, reindeer and snow
To
England with all of its history
To India
a land of mystery
Here,
there or in the air
My visions
take me anywhere.
“I let
the visions take me anywhere” from Mike Bayle’s “Aviary”.
My Hope
Thank You, Lord.
I am not alone.
I can turn to You
every moment of
the day.
You are my
strength
when I am weak,
my rock
when life swirls
about me,
my fortress in
all my battles,
my deliverer
when I’m defeated.
Thank You for
being my hope.
All My Days
There’s steady ringing in my ears
I’ve been on this earth for years
But surely, it is not my home
While I’m here I like to roam
But some day I will be up there
Living fine without a care
With no more ringing in my ears
Just praises ringing and my cheers
To my glorious God and king
I’ll have all eternity to sing
And dance before Him and praise
So here I’ll worship all my days
Winning the Race
I can’t remember the last time
I hurried anywhere.
Since Hubby and I retired,
I plan my schedule out.
About anything I put on my to-do list,
if it doesn’t get done today,
can be turned over to tomorrow.
We aim to be early at our few appointments.
I putt, putt along like an old truck.
It’s nice not to hurry.
The tortoise and I are buddies.
“Slow and steady wins the race.”
How to Write
a Poem with Neither Time or Inspiration
Start with
what’s around you
to the
right (on an end table):
headphones
with travel bag,
glasses
cleaner and cloth,
an
insurance book you’ll never read,
a title
of a book you want to read,
the number
for the ER your son was in,
an empty
place for your computer,
(on the
floor) your ukulele in a black case,
a friend’s
wire trash can you didn’t want
that you
traded for one you had wanted to keep.
To your
left (on and end table),
a half
glass of water,
cold tea
in a big Scrabble mug,
a
children’s novel in verse
like you
want to write someday,
a Kindle
containing many books,
a hymn
book, a Bible reading chart,
a
Barnabas Aid newsletter,
a
catalog for college courses,
a study
on Ruth with a promise
to do
the lesson before Tuesday.
a cell
phone in a well-used cover.
So much can
be said
with what
you have around you.
February
22, 1973
A skinny
pastor came to town
And
taught about the Lord.
He spoke
of Jesus and His love
As one
to be adored.
My
friend and I, we bowed our heads
And
asked Lord Jesus in.
We vowed
to live each day for Him.
He took
away our sin.
These
fifty years, we’ve known the Lord,
With bumps
along the way.
We found
that He’s a faithful God
And
hears us when we pray.
The
skinny pastor has passed on
And we
are growing old.
Yes, we
will see him once again
And walk
on streets of gold.
Hidden
My heart says of you, ‘Seek his face!’ Your
face, Lord, I will seek.
Psalm 27:8
Sometimes I wonder where He is
When trials and troubles come
I cry out, wondering if He hears
But He’s not deaf and dumb!
He hides Himself so I will seek
Find hope in the pursuit
And when
the search is at its peak
His love
is at the root
I have
to seek so I can find
The joy
He has in store
And when
He hides some further in
I will
pursue Him more
And then
I learn He’s always there
It’s me
that’s deaf and dumb
And then
I hear His still small voice
That
lovingly says, “Come!”
And so I
see, it’s me who hides
He waits
for me to come
I stand
here open in His sight
And will
no longer run
A Question
I don’t know
why
my oldest
sister said it,
what I did
at about eight years old
or what the
situation was.
But she said it.
“Where is your
common sense?”
Ever after, those
words haunted me
and I felt I
was destined
to bumble
through life
while my common
sense
had hidden itself
or packed up and
went on vacation.
Perhaps that’s why
I’m so hard on
myself
when I do dumb
things.
But I’m
learning
that, like my
writing muse,
common sense
comes and goes.
It’s part of
the human condition.
New Normal
Having a
nightmare I wish I’d wake up from
Memory loss of
my thirty-seven-year-old son
Phone calls,
emails and texts all day long
And no one is
able to tell us what’s wrong
He’s home now,
new normal: Day One
His mind’s a
bit clearer all the day through.
He remembers it’s
January, he lost his job, too
He repeats
himself and asks the same questions
He guides his
day by his sister’s suggestions
One day at a
time, new normal: Day Two
When he wakes
up it’s not clear to see
He has to sort dreams
from reality
Sis set an
appointment for his doctor
She’s strong
and not letting this rock her
Moving forward,
new normal: Day Three
My son woke up
Sunday morning with about three months of memory loss and spent the morning in
ER. When the prompt was “forgetful” I couldn’t think of anything else to write
about! My son and daughter are both single and live together in my daughter’s
house about an eight-hours drive from me. We just had a foot of snow so we’re
exchanging a lot of phone calls and texts, working through this. There’s no
official diagnosis yet.
