Graceful arms propel her forward
Legs gently float behind
Feet periodically kick-
Not forceful, only enough
to maintain momentum
Where is she heading?
Storm clouds line the horizon
She’s passed through them before
Impossible to avoid-
And time, impossible to control
The bright sun warms her face
Grace holds her heart
Mercy lifts her soul
Momentum is maintained
Perhaps the question is not
where she is headed
but instead, how she
sustains a spirit of peace
A gaggle of geese
flying overhead in
perfect formation
A formation of clouds
branching out across
the sky at sunrise
The branches of a tree
securely holding leaves
until their time to fall
Your hand holding mine
filling the empty spaces
between my fingers
Images comparable
in angle and purpose-
open and strong
Unexpected gifts
healing my heart
with their presence
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
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…
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
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
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
Gigi, look at the sky!
I always seem to be
looking at the sky.
Had my granddaughter noticed?
Either way, the reminder
brought a fresh curiosity.
What did her eyes see when
looking at the sky?
I knew she noticed airplanes.
I’d watched her eyes
respond to hearing one
even before it flew into view.
Then watched as she
waved, asking it to come back.
Listening, looking, responding-
Is it that effortless? I think so.
Gig, look at the sky!
A flood of wisdom in
the simplest reminder
from the tiniest voice.
Yesterday, we visited Johnstone’s Kiddie Park in Bartlesville, OK. We took our oldest son there when he was little, and now it was his daughter’s turn.
Some things had changed, mostly cosmetically. However, the idea of a fun and inexpensive family outing (tickets are 75 cents) remains.
Watching our granddaughter brought back sweet memories of her dad at that age. And now we have more to add to that precious file of good days.
Rushing out the door,
I noticed my sweet, silly cat
stretched out like a pile of
pulled-apart cotton balls.
Driving to work,
I saw a once fluffy cloud
rolled out across the blue sky.
Reminded me of my cat.
Perhaps I need to unroll, stretch.
Not just my body, but also
my head and my heart.
Remaining too long
curled in a fetal position,
Though somewhat comforting,
is counterproductive.
Touch my toes.
Reach my hands skyward.
Lie flat on my back, eyes closed.
Smile or cry, whichever is needed.
Smile and cry at the same time.
That’s my favorite.
Ask for forgiveness.
Say I’m sorry.
Say I love you.
Slow down and stretch.
