The wind’s sway
is strong today
Urging and drawing
This way and that
It is okay to hold on, Little Flower
But keep your eyes open
You never know what
new perspectives
The breeze might
have in store
Simply Sunday
Tag: hope
Limited Power
There are moments,
A scream buried
deep inside begins
rising to the surface
Push it back down, steady-
Letting it out would
surely be unpleasant
Why is it there, anyway?
Big picture, I am ok
Still, frustrations pile
one on top of another
and another, attempting
a coup inside my brain
Truth is, their power is limited
One tangerine sky at the
end of a cool Spring day
and my heart instantly
returns to the helm
And that scream?
It dissipates in a single breath
In the Dirt
Days are long, but
Years are short.
Or so they say
That all elusive “they”
Who receives entirely
too much credit in our
passing days and years
I want to walk,
no, meander,
down a dirt path
Trees on both sides
Transformed into
a shady canopy
Listening to the breeze
Listening to the birds
Stopping only for a
Single ray of sunlight
Peeking through the leaves
To paint a picture
in the dirt just for me
No thought of days,
years, maps, or lists
Only the temporary
Becoming the eternal
I wrote this poem in a recent in-person poetry circle. Listening, reflecting, and writing with this group was a breath of fresh air. Highly recommend! 💛
Simply Sunday
Reaching For Me
I saw a hand
in the sky today
Powerful and strong
Open and inviting
Formed from clouds
while holding clouds
Its blue-gray edges
Lined in bright sunlight
I imagine sitting
safe in its palm
Reclining, at least
for a moment
No worries of
Hatred or war
Sickness or death-
Not ignoring
Only briefly resting
Cradled in the hand
I cannot fully understand
Believing it is there, reaching
Forgot to Remember
With pinpointed laser focus,
I move through a tunnel
of my own making
Eyes staring straight ahead
Everything in my periphery,
blurred
Just make it
to your destination
Tensions will ease
Where am I heading,
anyway? I forgot to remember.
The tunnel walls concealed
my dazed distraction, creating
a false sense of direction
toward a desired destination
Or whatever it is I’m seeking.
Peace? But peace is not a destination.
Peace shines through a single ray of sunlight
piercing the clouds to my right
Peace sings with the birds playing leapfrog
on the power lines to my left
Peace smiles as I exit the tunnel
Opening my eyes and my heart
to this great big beautiful world
Let Go of the Rope
I am standing in a field
holding tight to the
middle of a rope
A foolish attempt to
bring balance in an
unexpected tug-of-war
On my right, grief
grips the cord
with all its might
On my left, love
holds firm
Always fierce
Suddenly, I understand-
Neither one can let go
They are forever bound
Now I’m faced with a choice-
Allow the tug-of-war
to continue within me
or let go of the rope
Reach for images,
past and present,
patiently waiting in
the back of my mind
Watch, as grief and love
fall into each other,
simultaneously releasing
laughter and tears
I am lying in a field
having let go
of the rope-
Exhausted, grateful, content
Simply Sunday
Pearls of Wisdom
Their formation takes years-
A process hidden from sight
in the depths of the heart
A heart learning to wrap
life’s difficult bits
in opalescent layers
of mercy and grace
Not ignoring the irritants,
only processing-
Some taking longer to
transform than others
Yet, each one eventually
emerges- Iridescent gifts
of hope, love, and wisdom
A delicate string of
pearls, not displayed
around the neck, but in
the affectionate smiles of
those standing the closest
Morning Minute
Yesterday morning’s fog
held a tinge of pale pink
A slight relief from
recent grays
There was something
varied in its lifting as well
No intention of completely
disappearing into emerging
sunbeams – only hiding
for a bit – waiting for
an opportunity to once
again share its surprising tint
Patience – let the soft hues
permeate your dreams-
And who knows, your
soul may be soothed by
an appearance of peaceful
pink in tomorrow’s sunrise-
If you remember to look
A Shared Lament
Like unwanted vines
choking a rose bush, it
blocks the sun and rain
until delicate buds,
nearly ready to bloom
Whither and fade-
Their true colors
never allowed to
grace the garden
I would miss your
beautiful colors
even more than
those of the roses
So, let’s face our
grief together, and
let tears fall like a steady
rain, reviving wilted buds
And with open arms
invite others who are
hurting to join us until
we are wholly comforted
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Matthew 5: 4
Simply Sunday
Trumpeter Swan
Before taking flight
your snow white wings
gracefully expand
above the water
Scalloped feet paddle below-
An unseen source of
strength supporting
your angelic dance
An unseen
Source of
Strength
Not strength
displayed with
force, but instead,
filtered through grace
Each gesture
a reminder-an
ethereal expression
of eternal affection
Piano Girl 