The clock ticks
One second
At a time
The sun shines
One beam
At a time
And yet, with love
One second
Quickly becomes
One thousand
One sunbeam
A multitude
Flooding
Darkness
From the heart
As two sit
Together
In this space
Of time and light
Giving no thought
To the ticking clock
Or the sun’s rays
Only the desire
To remain seated
And experience
The transformation
From the measured
To the unmeasurable
Visit to a Cemetery
I stood
At the foot
Of a grave
Shaded by
Lovely birch
On a rolling
Green slope
Overseen by
A church
Painted white
Filled with
History on
Both sides
Of glass panes-
I stood
At the foot
Of a grave
Cradling remains
Of those gone
From this earth
Centuries ago
Memories
Carved
In marble
Beloved
Daughter, wife, mother
Honored
Son, husband, father
I stood
At the grave
Of a poet
My heart touched
By remembrances
Of persons
I have never met
Old Bennington Cemetery 
The Congregational Church
Old Bennington, Vermont
Grave of Robert Frost and family
Simply Sunday
Days
Enjoying
Art and
Nature
Exploring
Lessons
Offered
By history-
Our own
Others-
Reminiscing
Our combined
Years of living
In only seven
Of these
Precious
Allotments
Of time
Each holding
The same
Number
Of hours
Each passing
Too quickly
Tanglewood 
Olana 
Old Bennington 
Grave of Robert Frost 
Ever-Changing
Standing
On the edge
Green grass
Underfoot
Cushioning
My step
Observing
Diamonds sparkle
On the water
Clouds float
In the sky
On the pond
Listening
Plop! Chirp!
Zip-Zap!
Frogs, birds
Dragonflies
And me
Waiting
As light shifts
Breezes blow
Enveloped in
This ever-changing
Landscape
Olana-Home and grounds of artist, Frederic Church. Hudson, NY
What a beautiful day exploring Olana. Art, history, amazing views…and family. ❤
Adventures Old and New
Greetings from Massachusetts! My first visit to this beautiful state. Even though the weather was cloudy and rainy upon arrival, I quickly noticed the many shades of green. No matter where I looked, a different type of tree. Some familiar, others not.
This morning the sun is shining, and the sky is a perfect blue! I am excited to explore with my Aunt Martha and Uncle James. Such a treat! 💚
Chanel No. 5-Reblog from September, 2019
I don’t wear a lot of perfume. I’ve had a couple of favorites as an adult, but allergy sensitivities often keep me from enjoying them. Currently, I own one bottle of Chanel No. 5.
I’m not sure how long I’ve had this particular bottle. During our recent unpacking, it caught my eye. I could not remember the last time it was open. The design is so classic and pretty, I decided to leave it out.
One morning last week while getting ready for school, that bottle of Chanel caught my eye again. This time, I opened it and placed a small drop on my finger, then dabbed it on my neck and wrists. “It might be nice to wear a little perfume again,” I thought.
As the familiar scent filled the air, a flood of memories filled my mind.
When I was a little girl, visits to my Aunt Martha and Uncle James’s house were a treat. They, along with their children-Jim, Angela, and Brad-moved several times. I remember trips to Fayetteville, Memphis, and Louisiana. Typically, it was a week-long visit during summer vacation.
Some memories are as clear as a photograph. Dressing my cousin, Angela, up in her Raggedy Ann doll clothes. Riding the bus with my cousin, Jimmy, from Little Rock to Memphis and spilling an entire big bag of M&Ms. Kick boxing with Uncle James. Rolling a piano from room to room so I could play while Martha and James painted their house.
So, why did this sweet smell cause such reminiscing? Because Aunt Martha always had a bottle of Chanel No. 5. And when I visited, she would let me wear some of her perfume. Just a tiny drop on my finger, then dabbed on my neck and wrists. Such a treat for a little girl.
I continue to be amazed by the beautiful complexity of the heart and mind. The simple scent of perfume has the power to transport me back in time. It leads me to precious childhood memories. And it reminds me that the love I experienced then has only grown over the years.
I still live far away from Aunt Martha and Uncle James. I look forward to our visits, no matter how far apart. And I am thankful for time spent with them as a child.
Who would have thought a bottle of Chanel No. 5 could make such an impression on one little girl? 😉
Simply Sunday
Father’s Day
Five days
Waiting
As doctors
Prepared
To repair
To replace
Pieces of
Your heart
Restoring
Strength to
The rhythm
Of your days
Five days
Worth
Waiting
I snapped the first photo on Dad’s first day in the hospital. Due to COVID regulations, visitations were limited and only one of us at a time, so I was thankful for these moments. The second was on the day he was released to go home after open-heart surgery. Happy Father’s Day, Dad! I love you! ❤️
Spoonful of Honey
When considering
Items in my kitchen
Which one do
I most resemble
Smooth pottery mug
Patiently waiting
To hold warm coffee
Or comforting tea
Maybe a teaspoon
Carrying sweet sugar
Or golden honey
Some days I am warm
Sweet and comforting
Helpful…
But there are other days,
Days I can be more like
The cheese grater
If I’m not careful
Careful to think
Before I speak
Careful to get
Enough rest
Oh, I don’t
Want to be
The cheese grater
Fussy, irritating
No-I’d much prefer
The spoonful of honey
I’m sure that is
Your preference, too
Raising Your Hand-A letter to my former student
I will never forget the first time I saw you, my new student. You hobbled sideways down the hall. Balance so bad, I was sure you would fall. Yet, you had learned the quickest way to get around or getaway!
One of your arms had to be amputated when you were a baby. Your vision and hearing were impaired. I cried at the thought of being your teacher.
I am not proud of my initial reaction. But I had no idea where to begin, how to connect. And no idea how you or I would manage with the other students in my classroom. As is so often the case, you became the teacher.
Oh, it was far from easy. Working to discover what you understood, what you wanted or needed. Sometimes it was trial and error, but you would not allow anyone to give up. And though you were often frustrated, your happy moments were life-changing.
One, in particular, is forever etched on my heart.
Our class was fortunate to have a college student volunteer in our room weekly. He was tall and quiet, and the students loved him. He would push them high in the swings on the playground.
One day, as the students were lining up to come in from recess, something interesting happened. Our young college friend was picking each student up so they could touch the ceiling where they stood. Each one excitedly waited for their turn. Each one reached up as if they were reaching the sky. It was a precious sight.
And then I saw you, my new friend. You were hobbling sideways up the grassy slope as fast as you possibly could move. Making your way up the sidewalk, fully aware of what was happening in that line.
You jumped up and down in front of our college friend, raising your one hand high in the air. There may not have been any words, but you were clearly saying, “My turn! Pick me up now. I want to touch that ceiling.” So, he did. And I have never heard such sounds of pure joy in my life.
I often wonder what happened to you. Even then, I worried about what your future would hold. I hope you are safe and well. You taught me so much in the short time I knew you.
If I Were Made of Glass by Kelley Morris Release Day! — The Stories In Between
Yesterday marked three years since I began this blog. And today marks the official release day for my first poetry collection! I continue to be amazed at the connections I’ve made through this WordPress family. So many creative and supportive spirits. I am glad this has become a part of my journey.
I must say a big thank you to my husband, Gart. I clearly remember him saying, “Have you ever thought about starting a blog?” It seems many rewarding things in my life began with him asking, “Have you ever thought about…?” He has a way of seeing things in me and helping me have the confidence to pursue them.
And, of course, thank you to River Dixon for taking a chance on me! I am honored for my writing to have a home at Potter’s Grove Press.
Available now in eBook and paperback. The debut poetry collection from Kelley Morris. If you are interesting in supporting Amazon alternatives, the eBook is available at the Potter’s Grove store. (paperback coming soon) The poems in this collection are reflections and stories of both the beauty and heartache of life and death, family, friendships, and […]
If I Were Made of Glass by Kelley Morris Release Day! — The Stories In Between
Simply Sunday
The Adventure
“Well, we made it! I have no idea how you got me here, but here we are.” I laughed at my mother-in-law’s comment as I dropped her off at the airport. “I’m not sure either.”
I have driven to the airport many times. However, this was my first time since we moved. The route was completely different from the one I had known for the previous fifteen years.
I do not have a strong innate sense of direction. Nor have I spent time improving my directional skills. I am a visual learner and tend to find landmarks helpful. But if you tell me to turn north, south, east, or west, I will almost certainly get lost. Or at the least, a little confused.
When going someplace new, the maps program on my phone is a reliable friend. Enter the address, tap Go, start driving. (Exactly how we got to the airport.) 😉 Not only is there a visual guide, but audio instructions are also available.
Am I on a journey? Yes! Is there an eventual destination? Definitely! But if I focus only on the directions and stopping point, I just might miss the adventure!
Piano Girl 