Notes
Rests
Sound
Silence
Working
Together
To make music
Pleasing
Not only
To the ears
But also
Body, mind, soul
And yet,
One key
Element
Is often
An afterthought-
Silence
If not
Savored
Disappears
Transposing
Sweet melody
To mere noise
Leaving
No time
To breathe
No time
To sing
Tag: life
Summer Morning Surprises
Cool summer morning
Pleasant surprise
Family of birds
Playing happily
In a nearby tree
Begins to circle
The sky in flight
Darting up
Dashing down
Dancing together
Like children
In a game of
Ring around the Rosie
Upon their return
To the safety
Of familiar branches
The welcoming tree
Like a wise grandmother
Rocking on the porch
Shakes with laughter
At their homecoming
Knowing they will not
Live with her forever
Especially
The young ones
For soon, they will
Find their own mates
Build their own nests
Perhaps in
A nearby tree
Perhaps not
For now, she accepts
The importance
Of protecting
While preparing
For the day
They fly away
Hopefully
Another lovely
Pleasant surprise
Cool summer morning
Clipping Stitches
A simple
Solitary
Seed
Of doubt
Sewing stitches
Choking roots
Once confident
Threatening
Downward
Spiral
Second-guessing
Simplest decisions
Sense of dread
Starting
In the brain
Slowly shifts
Stomach
Tied in knots
Realization
Anxiety has
Once again
Crept in
Recognizing
Is step one
Clipping stitches
Step two
Freeing roots
To stretch
And grow
Crushing
The doubt
Regaining
Confidence
Whether the tiniest reason or no reason at all, anxiety just shows up some days. Sharing helps. You never know who may be able to relate. Be encouraged. ❤️
Simply Sunday
Summer Night
I can feel it
In my bones
Sense it
Slowly
Approaching
Though still
Far away
Tensions
Being to rise
Along with
The growing
Bank of darkness
What to do?
Not a matter
Of if but when
It will arrive
Do I make
Preparations
For something
Over which
I have no control
Or do I sit still
Breathing
Watching
Praying
Welcoming
With open arms
Lessons sure
To be left behind
Once the storm passes
Two Poems
Elbows and Knees
I cried at the sight
Of you frail
Unaware of
My presence-
Chose to remember
Different images
On that day-
Tall and lanky
Uncanny ability
To sit comfortably
On your haunches
Elbows perched
On knees
Backside inches
From the ground-
My college senior
Piano recital
Me in my black dress
You in your blue
Cotton shirt and pants
Both beaming-
Five years later
Christmastime
My newborn son
Sleeping in your arms-
After you were gone
I saw your reflection
As my son sat
On his haunches
Elbows perched
On knees
Backside inches
From the ground-
Pictures of you
Held dear,
Grandpa
Workshirt
The morning
Is dark blue
The kind of blue
That almost
Looks black
But once
The sun rises
Turns to cerulean-
As the day
Progresses
The sky shifts
Until night washes
Over the work
Of the day
Bringing rest
To the Earth-
And rest to you
Handsome you
Strong you
Wearing your
Favorite blue shirt
Faded with time
As the dirt
And sweat
From a lifetime
Of hard work
Was washed away
I wrote the first poem specifically about my Grandpa Crow. He was a sweet man. Hardworking and loved to fish. The second could describe many different people from my growing up years. Maybe you can relate. 😊❤️
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 
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? 😉
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.
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 