Chicago, you did not disappoint! I hope to visit again someday! ❤️
Simply Sunday
Author: Piano girl
Wife, mom of three, friend, teacher, pianist. Learn from the past, live in the moment, hope for the future.
Renewal
A swath of deep, dark
purple appeared, the
top layer of sunrise,
oranges and golds
rising underneath.
The horizon, their
steady starting line.
The nearby Morning Star
inscribed words of comfort
in silver lettering across the layers.
Here I am. You are not alone.
Words I have received,
written down, and shared
on many occasions.
But today, for a moment,
It felt as though I was
receiving them for the first time.
Why these words this morning?
Perhaps to reinforce a truth
experienced in recent days
as a renewed promise.
Even when all is not well,
You will be okay
Enjoying a few days in Chicago. My first visit! Grateful for time away with the guy pictured below. 😘
Tell Someone
A tightening in the
center of my chest
A knot in my gut
Breathe
A few moments of relief
And then with no warning
A tightening in the
center of my chest
A knot in my gut-
Add in a little race
between my pulse
and my thoughts-
Breathe deeper
Take a drink of water
Tell someone how I’m feeling
The cycle may continue
a little longer
but I’m no longer
circling it alone
I often speak of writing as a type of therapy. I’m able to get feelings on paper without speaking the words.
I have not written about anxiety and depression in a while. But today was tough. Anxiety was knocking down the door.
If you happen to also be there, you are not alone.
Much love,
Kelley
Simply Sunday
Graceful arms propel her forward
Legs gently float behind
Feet periodically kick-
Not forceful, only enough
to maintain momentum
Where is she heading?
Storm clouds line the horizon
She’s passed through them before
Impossible to avoid-
And time, impossible to control
The bright sun warms her face
Grace holds her heart
Mercy lifts her soul
Momentum is maintained
Perhaps the question is not
where she is headed
but instead, how she
sustains a spirit of peace
Saying Thank You
A gaggle of geese
flying overhead in
perfect formation
A formation of clouds
branching out across
the sky at sunrise
The branches of a tree
securely holding leaves
until their time to fall
Your hand holding mine
filling the empty spaces
between my fingers
Images comparable
in angle and purpose-
open and strong
Unexpected gifts
healing my heart
with their presence
Quiet Calling
Faint lines evenly divided
the morning mist
reminding me of the lines
on staff paper, waiting
for the composer’s
song to dot its
blank lines and spaces-
Or the lines in my journal
waiting for words to
fill its blank pages
A composition of melody
and harmony working
through dissonance-
A story of life and love
acknowledging the roles
of grief and loss
I’ve never considered
any possible purpose
for the morning mist
except blurring vision
and slowing travel
Perhaps today, it was
waiting for me, curious
what I would place on
its lines and in its spaces
Whether I will allow dissonance
to permeate my day, or
be peacefully resolved
in the ebb and flow
of another day
Simply Sunday
I sit quietly, mesmerized
by the path of a morning breeze
travelling from the peak
of a tall oak, downward
until each branch, each leaf
engaged in childlike song.
The entire tree danced, as if
calling me to join in
until the breeze moved on
to the loblolly across the fence.
I watch as the breeze
continues conducting.
Whole sections of the loblolly
swaying and swirling in grand gestures
like a gentle giant preparing
to pick a tiny flower.
The same breeze spoke
through both trees.
Responses varied due to
their individual states of being.
Results proved equally persuasive.
Songs my soul needed to hear.
Lessons my heart aches to understand.
Fingerprints
From our very first reach,
we leave lasting imprints
Tiny fingers, tiny toes
unaware of the enduring
impact engraved on
all who hold us close
Choice eventually becomes
part of the equation-
Deciding if what we leave behind
is positive, helpful, encouraging,
or cynical, hurtful, disheartening
Each imprint is personal
an identifying set of
lines and ridges
creating a pattern-
Sacred responsibility
held in every touch
I saw such a fingerprint
in the afternoon clouds-
Lines and ridges
creating a pattern
belonging to the one
who holds the sky
Birds
I picture them perched
along electric wires
carefully watching
as we pass by.
I wonder what they think of us?
Are their conversations more
logical than ours? Friendlier?
They sing such sweet melodies.
Yes, they also squawk
and screech, but for a
purpose-imminent danger
or a particular need.
I can hear them now
calling each other
back and forth across
the yard, tree to tree.
Hey there! Will you fly over for a visit?
Sure! Let me finish feeding the babies.
I gathered some extra twigs to bring you!
Thank you! See you soon!
Perhaps we could learn
from the birds if we
intentionally listen
and quietly observe.
Perhaps we could learn
from each other
the exact same way…
Simply Sunday
She searched, frantically
pacing back and forth
calling out his name
How had she lost track of her baby?
He was tiny, smaller
than all the other lambs
And now he was lost
Hopes of finding him
quickly dwindling
A sudden hush fell
over the anxious flock
as the young shepherd
slowly made his way
along the path
The little lost lamb
peacefully laid
across his arm – safe
Overcome with relief,
unable to speak, she
gently leaned into the shepherd
It’s okay. I found him
You must know I would never leave him behind
Yes, she knew, but somehow, had forgotten
Crystal Bridges Museum, Bentonville, AR
