The midday sun
Warms my face
While a cool hint-of-fall breeze
Brushes my hair gently across my eyes-
I don’t mind the combination
Sweet whispers float among the trees
As leaves that have fallen too early
Crawl across the pavement
Before resting in the dirt-
There are sirens in the distance
One after another
I don’t count-
Curious about the mixture of sounds
I wonder what happened?
Is someone hurt?
Are all the sirens headed in the same direction?
Fear begins to grow
Then the sirens suddenly stop-
I sit still, remain silent
As the mid-day sun
Warms my face
While a cool hint-of-fall breeze
Brushes my hair gently across my eyes-
I don’t mind the combination
A Little Math
When I taught elementary school, one question from students always made for interesting conversations.
How old are you, Mrs. Morris?
I would walk to the whiteboard and write a math problem. The current year minus my birth year. Once they solved the problem, they had their answer.
I’m no longer teaching, but it feels like a new math problem is in order this year.
Our oldest son, Robert, was born on my twenty-seventh birthday. As of today, we’ve shared thirty birthdays.
Simple addition, perhaps. But an answer accompanied by exponential joy.
Happy Birthday to us!
Simply Sunday
A Favor
Short drives
Long drives
Dropping off
Picking up
To the airport and back
Or a two-hour road trip
To a chosen halfway
Meeting spot-
Each path is an opportunity
Not simply a destination-
A choice to spend
A little extra time
Together-
Have a great trip!
We will miss you!
Welcome home!
Until next time!
A simple favor?
Perhaps
But sometimes
The simplest of gestures
Connect our hearts with
The strongest of ties
One week ago, we celebrated our daughter’s wedding. Yesterday, we picked up the newlyweds from the airport. Friday, we drove my mom halfway home after a sweet visit. Her sister met us and drove Mom the rest of the way home. Today, I will pick up my friend from the airport.
Each instance subtly reminds me of the importance and the passing of time. It is a sacred space not to be taken for granted.
Precious Stops
It does not reside
In the number of steps taken
Or the many miles traveled
It does not reside
In cities or towns
Position or advancement-
True joy, the kind that wells up
From a place in your heart
Where memories of those
Who shared a precious stop
Along the way are gently held-
That kind of joy
Resides in the sweet hug
Kind words and teary eyes
Of a surprise reunion
With a dear friend
Making thirty years ago
Feel like yesterday
Happy Thanksgiving, Friends! 🧡💛❤️
Porch Swing Promises
If you had a porch swing
I might never leave-
Innocent comments carrying
A hint of hope for the future-
Offered with a smile
Received with curiosity
At a time when everything was new
Excitement mixed with hesitation
In the getting-to-know stage
Holding tight
To possibilities
But not too tight-
Until uncertainties vanished
With one thoughtful purchase-
Perfect spot for relaxing, talking, laughing-
And when the time was right
A sweet proposal-
Who knew so much hope and love
Could be held in the sway
Of one perfectly placed porch swing
For Rachel and Austen ❤️
Simply Sunday
Yesterday, we celebrated the marriage of our daughter, Rachel, and her fiance, Austen. Surrounded by family and friends, they promised to love and care for each other, no matter what.
Their smiles spoke as strongly as their words.
It was a beautifully perfect day, covered in clear blue skies, heartfelt vows, and love expressed for the happy couple.
So many emotions were felt and memories made. This mom needs time to reflect. But one thing is for certain, the Father of the Bride and I could not be happier.
More to come…❤️
Silence
It challenges me-
In my car?
Turn on some music
Home alone?
Flip on the TV
Why not simply sit
With my thoughts?
They tend to shift
Quite rapidly
And are often
Accompanied by
Vivid images-
My quiet time
Quickly becomes
A cacophony
No one else can hear
A barrage of photos
No one else can see-
Perhaps I should
Take a walk-
Listen closely to the
Birds and the Breeze-
Let their songs clear
The cobwebs away
Making room for peace
Simply Sunday
Transformation
It’s not for lack of trying
You soak in every
Drop of rain
Bask in each
Ray of sunlight
Stand tall in your
Strongest strong
Timing and balance
In this current season
Are just a bit off
Not that you hold
Any control where
These particular changes
Are concerned-
One thing is certain
Changes will occur
But even when your
Branches sway, bare
In Winter’s breeze
Your beauty will not fade
Muted Colors
If only I could grasp
A corner of the sky
Between my fingertips
And carefully peel it back
Like removing
The protective covering
From a brand-new mirror
So that the fuzzy images
Suddenly become clear-
If only I could grasp
A corner of the sky
Between my fingertips
And carefully peel it back
Perhaps the colors of Fall
Would no longer appear muted
Their transformation revealing
Deep reds and golden yellows-
I cannot peel back
A corner of the sky
But I can remember
This is only a season
And in certain seasons
Peace for an anxious heart
Quietly lingers within
The softly muted colors
Passersby
I pass by them
Almost every day
Structures, homes
Once filled with life
And all of its joy and sorrow
Now abandoned
Void of purpose
I pass by them
Almost every day
People, living souls
Once filled with life
And all of its laughter and tears
Now standing alone
Their gazes hollow
Purpose forgotten –
What if the latter filled the former?
Would it be a step toward living again?
Maybe a small step
Requiring help from passersby like me-
Surely an answer
Lies somewhere between
The tangible and the sacred
“Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.”
Proverbs 31:9
Piano Girl 