It wasnāt supposed to rain.
But when I stepped outside,
raindrops landed on my head,
my face and my arms.
They dried almost as quickly as they fell.
Strange, no gray clouds in sight.
Looking straight ahead, while
turning a 360-degree radius,
there was a mix of
bright blue,
fluffy white,
and daylight.
Where was the gray?
Directly overhead.
I suddenly felt like a cartoon character.
You know the one.
Aimlessly lumbering across a happy scene,
accompanied by a single rain cloud.
Itās curious, today is clear and sunny.
And I miss the raindrops.
Tag: life
Simply Sunday
Constantly interrupted sleep,
a cycle of words and phrases
repeating and evolving
between quiet moments.
When morning came,
the words were gone.
As if they’d never crossed my mind.
Just as I’d put aside
any attempt at recovery,
a beautiful blank slate appeared.
Its location? A pleasant surprise.
A page of blue surrounded
by white clouds and sunshine
I think my day just wrote itself.
Whispering Blue
A little patch of pale blue
Whispered my name
After the storm.
Rain had fallen
So hard, the sky was
No longer visible.
I could barely see
The road in front of me.
My shoulders tensed.
My chest tightened.
My heart grew heavy.
As the storm passed,
My body relaxed, tired.
But the heaviness
In my heart remained.
Even the little patch of blue
Couldnāt lighten the weight.
But thatās okay.
That wasnāt its purpose.
The little patch of blue
Whispered my name to
Shift my gaze and remind me-
Look for the good.
Trust that the storm will pass.
Simply Sunday
Light and Shadow
I sat with
The heaviness
All-day-long
My heart wrapped
In a blanket of grief
The day wrapped
In weeping clouds
A peak of the sun
Broke my stillness
Only a glance
Out the window
Surely, I should not soak it in
How could I?
Amid so much suffering
That sweet sunshine
Not to be ignored
Determined to draw me out
Shone a little brighter
Bravely displaying
Light and shadow
Simultaneously
I couldnāt help
Whispering
Thank you
Even as my heart
Continued to cry
Today, I am sharing a poem from my recent collection, When the Glass Breaks. Once again, the day, the world, feels anything but simple. And I know there are no simple answers. But I am reminded of the following quote.
“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” Martin Luther King, Jr.
Fourth of July
I decided to revisit a poem I wrote several years ago. Made a few changes, but the story remains the same. It just felt like the right one to share this year.
Grandpa
Grandpa worked hard
his entire life.
He married young.
He and Grandma
raised nine kids
in the country.
Strong and stubborn,
but loved to laugh.
Mellowed over time.
Without a doubt,
dealt with struggles
I never knew.
I can see him
wearing overalls
after a long day.
Promising to dance
at my wedding, if
Iād fetch what he needed.
Liked to argue.
Loved his family.
He was always ready to
welcome them home.
Looking forward to a
Family gathering that very day.
But in the morning,
while everyone slept,
He woke early.
Put the coffee on.
Then sat down in
his favorite chair.
At the young age of sixty-seven,
Grandpa died.
It was the Fourth of July.
Simply Sunday
We’ve spent the last several days caring for our two-year-old granddaughter. I was reminded of the times our parents did the same for us, and they were taking care of three!
The following describes most evenings as it got close to bedtime.
Wallow: to roll oneself about in a lazy, relaxed, or ungainly manner. Would you please use it in a sentence? The tired toddler wallowed back and forth, all over the couch, between her Gigi and Papa.
Seriously though, she is funny, imaginative, sassy, and sweet. And we are grateful. Oh, and tired. We are a little tired. šš©·
Fear and Hope
The Unknown
Thought of with excitement,
or overwhelming fear.
For me, the fear part usually
rises in the middle of the night.
Like waking up from a dream
with a sudden Gasp!
Except, this kind of fear is not a dream.
Dream or no dream, I have
no control over the outcome.
And worrying about all that remains unseen,
does nothing to enhance my state of being.
Not to say it is easy to push the fear away, but I keep trying…
Breathe.
Look out the window.
Find that glimmer of hope
calling to your soul, ready and waiting
to swallow up your fears.
Her Song
I know her song,
though it changes often.
Depends on the day’s path.
Does she choose her own?
I wonder.
When traveling through
A grove of Aspens,
her melody is gentle and sweet.
Each glistening leaf
adds a note of color.
When coursing over rough rocks
on the shoreline, her melody
grows stronger, driving forward
with each pulse of the current.
Both melodies, both paths,
inspire awe and wonder.
Listen. What is she singing for you today?
Poems from the poetry circle. ā¤ļø
Simply Sunday
Surprise Greeting
Standing tall behind
A concrete barrier
Not the place
I would expect to see you-
Your face turns left, then right
Back and forth with the breeze
While your palms wave
A friendly hello-
Your sudden appearance
Brings to mind a puppet
Popping up from behind
A carefully constructed stage-
A giggling child, your audience-
But you are no puppet
And I am not a child-
You are a happy little Sunflower
Not standing in a field, amongst
A family of sunflowers-
You are a happy little Sunflower
Smiling and waving, standing tall
Behind a concrete barrier
And I, a searcher, thankful
For your glimmer of hope
Lingering Light
A heart-shaped cloud
Usually prompts a smile
But not that day-
That day, the cloud was gray-
A symbol of grief
A reflection of the hurt
Many suffer, often in silence-
The sky was silent, too
Unlike recent days of rain,
Thunder, and lightning-
As if now holding
Its breath while
The grieving heart
Cautiously passed by
Light remained-
Not bright, but soft and warm-
Like a lamp lit
In the corner of a room
Quietly lingering
Offering comfort
Holding space for healing
Simply Sunday
I didn’t write the following poem for Father’s Day. However, as I continued to read and edit, the themes of kindness and sharing kept reminding me of Dad. I am grateful for the example he set. Oh, how I miss him.
Second-Hand Rain
When long-standing trees
On two sides of a road
Meet in the middle
A canopy of peaceful shade
Calls travelers to pass underneath
On rainy days, water filters
Through the layers
Of branches and leaves-
They drink only what is needed
Before sharing what remains
Leftover droplets, somehow
Bigger than the originals,
Land on all who
Travel underneath
The welcoming canopy
Leaves wave and smile
Happy to share
What they received-
Understanding the rain
Was never theirs alone
Knowing the rainfall
Would only be able
To quench the most
Parched hearts
Once freely shared
Happy Father’s Day!
Piano Girl 