City Lights
My husband and I
used to drive
from Wheatland,
a small town in Wyoming
to Cheyenne
where my husband’s family lives.
After about an hour of darkness,
we’d start seeing the lights of Cheyenne.
It felt welcoming, even hopeful.
Leaving the barren land in the night,
we’d soon be greeted by warm smiles.
When I see the stars
in the pitch-black sky,
I think of Heaven.
Welcoming light
Warm smiles
Hopeful.
Venice
What do you think of when you hear the name Venice?
Romance? Beauty? Riding along in gondolas while the gondolier sings Italian
tunes? That’s what I thought of before visiting there in a rain storm. During
our tour, we had “free time” when you go out and explore on your own. Since, for
me “free time” was code for getting lost, I latched onto a kindly couple, with
memorable names Mark and Mindy, and they graciously allowed me to follow them
around. Sis wisely stayed in the hotel that day. The gondolas were grounded. We
paid 30 euros to tour a palace. We thought it worth it since it was warm and
dry inside. But getting out was a trick. It took us a while to find the exit
and it was almost time to catch the ferry. So when I think of Venice, I think
of running and sloshing through ankle-deep water, through rain and wind, holding
my umbrella in front of me so the wind wouldn’t catch it and causes it to
explode like it did with Mark’s. Mark ran ahead of us to tell the tour guide we
were on our way. Mindy ran behind me making sure I didn’t get lost. And we made
it to the ferry. Ironically, when we got off, I followed someone else to the
bus and Mark and Mindy got lost, but the tour guide retrieved them.
My dreams of Venice
Turned somewhat of a nightmare
But grand adventure
Spring Break
This winter behaved like a lamb,
A snow or two but quickly passed.
I love the sunshine and warm days.
It made the winter go by fast.
But winter isn’t over yet.
Was the cold, white stuff just postponed?
The wind is kicking up a notch.
Last night, it whistled, groaned and moaned.
Next Wednesday, I’ll be headed south,
So over mountains, we will roam.
I’m hoping winter stays a lamb,
At least, until we come back home.
My sis and I head towards the beach,
On the island of Galveston.
We’re going over the spring break,
And aiming to have lots of fun.
When I come back to my home state,
Will winter leave with lion’s roar?
It will not matter much to me,
Just so I’m safe behind my door.
Lots of Words
A poem a day, for 20 years
Average about 100 words a poem
That’s about 730,000 words.
About 20 novellas in various stages of completions
Roughly 800,000 words.
Five to ten devotions a month for twelve years
Say about 7 times 144 times 250 words
About 252, 000 words.
Total 1,782,000 words
Plus an inestimable amount of words
in short stories, articles, and journaling.
Not to mention all of the rewrites.
I don’t think I’d be wrong in saying
that writing is my profession,
even if few have ever heard of me
and I would make more working at Wal-Mart.
The getting up
The laying down
The round and round and
round and round
Seems endless
Till it isn’t.
Chores
The endless dishes in the
sink
The bathrooms that begin
to stink
And someone spilled their
cherry drink
Chores are endless
The dust that settles everywhere
The tile that has no shine
or glare
The fridge with something growing
there
Chores are endless
The shaggy carpet with its
crumbs
The wilting plants despite
green thumbs
It’s almost time to plant
the Mums
Chores are endless
But didn’t we just cook a
meal?
And opaque windows—What a
deal!
What’s said about the
squeaky wheel?
Chores are endless
Home
Home is where the
toothbrush is.
That’s what I always say.
That’s because I’ve had so
many homes
All along my way.
Home in PA where I grew up,
Home at college at UPJ,
Home in Cheyenne where I
met hubby,
Home with my sister, Nebraska
way,
Home in Wyoming, our first
year,
Home in Craig where was
born our first.
The coldest place we ever
lived,
That winter was the worst.
Home in Dolores Trailer
park,
Home on sixteen acres of
land,
Home in Kemmerer, Wyoming,
When hubby took a job at
hand.
The same for the home in
Denver,
He worked on the new
highway.
Then home in southwest Colorado,
Where we decided to stay.
But no matter where we
live,
No matter where we roam,
We are just passing
through.
Heaven is our Home.
