A Gift of Music

The music store was one of my favorite places to visit as a little girl. I was so excited to browse the new piano sheet music and beg my mom for a new song. Are there any bad words? She would always ask if it was a pop song. No! I would reassure her.

I was recently gifted a stack of piano music. Thumbing through the pages took me right back to those childhood days. And each piece, familiar and unfamiliar, reminded me that music truly is a precious gift.

I recorded a couple of the songs. Enjoy! ❤️

Raindrops Keep Falling On My head

Lara’s Theme from Doctor Zhivago

In the Dirt

Hard to believe
I ever spent time
Digging
In the dirt
But I remember…
So much fun
Imaginations
Running wild
In the dirt
Seems silly now
The things once
Thought possible
In a little girl’s plans…
Sometimes the dirt
Was not forgiving
Washing it away
Required extra
Scrubbing-But, oh
The sweet smell
Of playing
In the dirt
Right before
The rain
Perhaps, it is time
To get my hands dirty
Do a little more
Digging
Wake that old
Imagination
From its dirt-free
Slumber and not
Worry so much
About looking clean

I continue to be amazed and grateful for the connections created through poetry circles facilitated by Ali Grimshaw. ❤️ https://flashlightbatteries.blog/

Worth Telling

Magic
In a tiny
Cardboard disc
Cutout windows
Evenly spaced
Around its edges
Each one holding
Transparent film
Unclear images
Until said disc
Is carefully placed
In the slot on top
Of the viewfinder-
Eyes glued
To the lenses
Held up to the light
And a whole new
Word emerges
Click the side button
To continue the journey
Image after image
Sharing a story
Worth telling-
We all have a story
Worth telling
Our very own
Cardboard disc
Filled with
Windows
To the soul

Sharing another poetry circle poem. Thankful for opportunities and connections. ❤️

Simply Sunday

Baby Steps

Your tiny forehead
Tilted to one side
Quizzically
Looking my way

I think I like you?

Tiny strategic moves
On my part
Required
To bring us closer

Do you want to play?

Magic of sunglasses
Tiny red flowers
Silly iridescent mirrors
Yours vs. mine

I see your eyes quietly smiling…

Your tiny forehead
Leaning toward mine
Briefly touching
Before leaning back

Oh yes, I think I like you!

Won’t You Be My Neighbor? by Fred Rogers Kelley Morris, piano

Draw Close

Tiny lanterns
Too numerous
To count
Carefully drape
The night skies
A select few
Are strung
Between
Silhouetted
Pine branches
Beautifully
Complex
And yet
The simplest
Of words
Draw close
Twinkle, twinkle little star
Familiar tune
Quietly hums
In the night air
Star light, star bright
Innocent wishes
From days gone
Gently return
The simplest
Of words
Tiny lanterns
Driving the darkness away

Colorado sky at 3:00 A.M.

Simply Sunday

Adventurous One

Early morning
When there is
Barely enough
Light to see
Or early evening
After the sun
Sinks below
The horizon
Those times
Are safest
For romping
And playing
In the soft blades
Expending
All energy
Before pausing
To graze our fill-
But some days
When the sun
Sits high in
The middle
Of the day
Temptation
Is too great
Warmth and light
Too much to ignore
All concerns
Disappear
As I run thru
Open fields
Fearless and free
For just a few
Moments
Until lovingly called
Back into the grove
Protected
In the shade
Of the trees

I’ve previously written about the herd of deer near our home. We often spot them in the early morning or late afternoon. I’m always glad to see them happily grazing in the field.

One day recently, I got a surprise. Driving by in the middle of the day, I spotted a young deer hopping in the field! It was all by itself. I could just imagine its mom calling from the edge of the trees, Ok! That’s enough! Playtime is over!

Morning News

I sit quietly
In my house
This morning
Drinking hot tea
Watching the morning news
Never having experienced the kind of fear
That would cause me to flee my home
Searching for a place of safety
A shelter under the ground
Where explosions above
That will destroy my home
And those of my friends and family
Cannot reach my children
I don’t know that kind of fear
Not fear of natural disasters
Unavoidable depending on location
But fear of weapons
Created by man
Neighbor against neighbor
Strong overtaking weak
Seeking what?
Power and greed
Seem the most common answers-
I sit quietly
In my house
This morning
Unable to erase the image
Of a precious little girl
On the morning news
Her big eyes filled with tears
Hiding underground
Unable to block
The sounds of bombs
Exploding on the surface
Perhaps I should not try
To erase her image
Instead, let it sear into my memory
Reminding me to pray for light
To find her in that dark place

Sleeping

In the quiet
Of the morning
Stoically
Standing
Seeking no attention
Trees line its ridge
Bare, unmoving
No colors
To catch my eye
And yet, I stop
And stare
As it sleeps-
I imagine its base
Collecting warmth
From the sun’s rays
Storing the energy
Soon required for waking
Pushing flowers up
Thru the forest floor
Opening patient buds
On the trees
Crying out-
Spring is here!
But not today
Today, the mountain sleeps
And I watch
Grateful
For its presence

Pinnacle Mountain State Park

On recent visits to my parents, one-stop has become routine on my way out of town. A perfect spot for a photograph of Pinnacle Mountain. Each time shows a different aspect of the current season. And while I love the colors of Spring and Fall, the above Winter view was beautiful in its own right. It reminded me of our need for rest, renewal, and the approaching Spring.

Simply Sunday

Hearing Again, Listening

Some stories we hear over and over. Ones from our childhood, our family’s history. It is easy to hear without listening. But when we really listen, we often learn something new. View that familiar story in a new light.

Yesterday, I heard a story I’ve heard before. But somehow, this time was different. This time, I saw the parents, my parents.

I was two years old. We lived next door to my grandparents in the country. (My parents still live in the same house.) Mom had done office work but was not working at this time. Dad worked as a carpenter.

One morning, I woke up covered in red whelps. Quite upsetting for young parents. They loaded me in the car, and we headed to see the doctor.

I had an allergic reaction, most likely a food allergy.

Grandpa and Grandma had a milk cow. And I had been drinking fresh, raw milk. Apparently, something in the cow’s feed did not sit well with me.

The prescription was simple. Go to the grocery store. Buy ham and applesauce. Only feed her those two things for an entire week.

Here’s the catch. Mom and Dad only had eleven or twelve dollars to their name.

They went to the grocery store. Bought ham and applesauce. And all three of us had the exact same menu for the following week.

Mom always laughs when telling this story. It is not viewed as a negative story. It is a doing what you must story. But this time, I heard it as a sacrifice story.

My parents did not ask anyone for help. They did not complain about eating ham and applesauce for a week. They did what was needed to take care of me, thankful for a solution.

I can picture them as I’ve seen in photos. Young, first-time parents. Nervous and concerned. Loving their little girl. That little girl just happened to be me.

The Invitation

The snow fell
Light and fluffy
Gusty winds
Caused confusion
As to how much
But the snow fell
White and bright
On the ground
It called my name
In the morning
Here I am!
It called again
At mid-day
Still waiting!
It tried one more time
Daylight is fading
You’d better hurry

Cautious steps
Bended knees
Body outstretched
On the ground
Giggling like a child
Answering the invitation
To be wrapped up
In a moment
Of pure joy

The snow finally came. And yes, I made my snow angel. Gone are the days of playing in the snow until our hands and feet are frozen. These days, I enjoy its beauty from the warm inside. But I could not let this snow pass without making that snow angel. I’m so glad I listened to my heart. And that my husband was there to help me up off the ground!

Guess who? ❄️