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.
Tag: life
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
Simply Sunday
Pulseline
Sometimes, relief for
anxious hearts is held
in surprising places
Have you ever sat
in a chair beside
the hospital bed of
someone you love?
The steady beep
of a heart monitor
mapping the tempo
of each precious breath
The gentle curves
of a stable pulse line
repeated over and over
reporting all is well
Peace surfaces alongside fear
I have experienced
this peace at other
times, in other places
A morning row of clouds,
their gentle undulation
performing a steady beat
underneath the warmth
of a brilliant sunrise
A skyline of treetops
grown together through
storms, their silhouette
a uniform motif of peace
painted across the horizon
Sometimes, relief for
anxious hearts is held
in surprising places
Peace surfaces alongside fear
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…
Belongings
A silver shopping cart
sits in the middle
of an empty
parking lot
They must have missed it
during the big clean-up
Someone’s every
single earthly
belonging lay
still inside
There was no someone.
I imagine it will
be gone tomorrow
Another attempt to
solve a problem
by covering it up
But the question
remains the same
Where did the people go?
Third poem in an unintended trio. Read the others here:
Plain Sight
He sits cross-legged
in the middle of the sidewalk
A tan coat, dirty and worn,
the final layer of protection
over all his belongings
all of his belongings
Hands in pockets
Hood over head
Shoulders hunched
Hidden in plain sight
Foolishness claims he
chose this lifestyle
That throwing away
His belongings will
magically clean
up the streets
Instead, this demolition
paves a dangerous path
toward ignoring our
responsibility to love,
no matter what
A dangerous path
whitewashed as a
much-improved scene,
until close observation
reveals the truth
Someone’s son helplessly
sits in the middle of the sidewalk
Hands in pockets
Hood over head
Shoulders hunched
Hidden in plain sight
First Few Notes
Like an old friend
whose gentle voice
immediately fills your soul
so is the song whose first few notes
gently pull you into a familiar embrace
Tears and smiles
grapple for their rightful
place in an emotional response
before finally acknowledging the
intention was always to coexist
Working together
they plant melodic lines
and poetic lyrics deep inside
the heart of the youngest listener-
at first, unaware of their influence
Roots grow, weaving in,
out, and around the decisions
and experiences of life, creating
a sweet, pliable core of awareness
always ready for another listen
And then one day…
A familiar chord
A long-fade ending
like a trusted friend
offers a lingering sense of sweet
acceptance…a hopeful see you again soon
Kelley Morris, piano
Grab Hands
My heart says rise above
Don’t be pulled down by
the weight of ugly words
and thoughtless actions
My head generates
logical responses
intended to make me
sound more intelligent
Where is the love in that?
Held back, pressed
down and further
down, tying me
to deep discontent
Where is the answer hiding?
Perhaps if I stop
thinking only of myself
and grab your hand
and we run through
a field so fast our feet
begin to hover
above the ground
before we fall into
the soft grass, laughing
and gaze at the clouds
Perhaps…
Enduring Imprint
The sky was dark
except for a few stars
and distant street lights
I watched in amazement
as the space station
flew overhead
It soared like an
undying meteorite
moving in slow motion
My eyes followed
its path until a swath
of mysterious white rays
painted on the horizon
blocked it from view
Had sun rays carved
an evening cloud bank
into evenly spaced beams?
The sun had long since
disappeared from my
little corner of the world
Long out of sight, yes
but its impact remained
quietly reminding me
of the enduring imprint
etched into my once
stilled heart by the
light of lasting Love
Eerily Clean
Despite the upbeat music playing in my car
The drive to work was eerily quiet –
A pale brown deer stood alone
in the corner of the field I pass daily-
I barely caught a glimpse
of her head turning as I drove past
Happy and sad at the same time
A combination of feelings I understand
I don’t understand the deafening
cries to clean up the streets
simultaneously seeking to silence
the cries of hurting hearts
I don’t understand tearing a man
from the only home he knows
destroying his tent and what few
belongings he owns
So much prideful noise, such a lack
of compassion and understanding-
The streets are eerily clean, but
our hearts must answer
the frightening question
hanging stagnant in the air-
Where did the people go?
Piano Girl 