Simply Sunday

Colors of Fall
Were slow
To appear
On certain trees
Dry conditions
Threatened
To hinder
The beauty
Of the season
But the leaves
Clung tightly
Waiting for
Rain to come
It was a cold rain
That fashioned
These delayed
Bursts of color
Just as others were
Beginning to wane
Yet even the faded
Appeared vibrant
Standing beside
The evergreens
Against the gray
And white backdrop
Painted on recent skies-
Everything in its time
Not competing
But complementing
In my not yet
Ready for Winter
Surroundings

Passerby

The deer had been
Absent from
Their usual field
Concerning
Colder weather
Blustery winds
They couldn’t
Have gone far
Wait! What was that?
There they are
Walking a path
Through the brush
To nearby water
I suppose it was there all along

A hidden path
Grass pressed down
Between the rows
Where others walked
In seasons past
Imprints remain
Though kept
Out of view
Until a concerned
Passerby needed
Reassurance
She was headed
The right direction

Collage

What makes a year?
Logic says
Seconds, minutes, hours
Days, weeks, months
Equally spaced
To help us keep track-
Of what, I’m not sure
Oh, there’s no denying
The answer when
My birth year
Is subtracted
From the current year
But the larger
That number grows
The less it represents
Anything equally spaced
What makes a year?
My heart says
The love of others
The beauty of nature
Grief, heartache, and loss
Faith, hope, and love
None of which
Fit into any calendar
All of which
Even the torn edges
Can be transformed
Into a much-cherished
Collage of memories

Casting Cares

Once and for all
Never to be
Thought of again
Is that what it means to cast all my cares?
As I read the words
They make sense
But one turn around
And my worries seem
To find their way back
What if I picture myself
Fishing pole in hand
Standing at the edge
Of a clear mountain lake
Knowing, once I cast
My line out into the water
The only thing left to do is wait
Knowing that the waiting
Can be done with patience
Enjoying surrounding beauty
In excited anticipation
Of what may come
Or wasting sacred moments
Pacing back and forth
As if I have any control
Over how those fish
Swimming below the surface
Will respond or react-
Maybe the secret
Is in the accepting-
He cares about each worry
No matter how big or small

..casting all your anxieties on him because he cares for you. I Peter 5:7

Missing the Quiet

Morning whispers
From a cool
Breeze as it
Wakens the trees
Mid-day melodies
Sweetly strung
Across the sky
Celebrating blue
Evening laughter
From familiar voices
Around the table
Listening…no need to speak
Middle-of-the-night
Soft breaths
From the rise
And fall of
A newborn’s chest
Resting against mine
As we gently rock-
I can still hear them
As I crawl back into bed
Place my hand on your chest
And wait for sleep to come

Take My Advice

Don’t blink
You might miss
Something

I suppose
The helpfulness
Of that advice
Depends on the
Something
Today, for me
It was a tree
First spotted last week
Soaking in the rain
Its leaves shining
Ruby red in the
Autumn breeze
Awake and alive
Capturing the attention
Of all who passed by-
One week later
The color has faded
Leaves have fallen
And yet, the tree
Remains strong
Standing beautiful
Another unseen ring
Added to its heart
So glad I didn’t blink

Simply Sunday

Driving at Dusk

Silhouetted trees
Of blackest ink
Unwavering
Against
A radiant orange
Horizon
The Earth
Continuing
On its orbit
No slower
Or faster than
The day before
I am moving, too
Yet, somehow
Frozen
In this one
Instant of time
Unchanging
Giving me pause
Time to marvel
Until the
Moment
Fades away

In the Dirt

Hard to believe
I ever spent time
Digging
In the dirt
But I remember…
So much fun
Imaginations
Running wild
In the dirt
Seems silly now
The things once
Thought possible
In a little girl’s plans…
Sometimes the dirt
Was not forgiving
Washing it away
Required extra
Scrubbing-But, oh
The sweet smell
Of playing
In the dirt
Right before
The rain
Perhaps, it is time
To get my hands dirty
Do a little more
Digging
Wake that old
Imagination
From its dirt-free
Slumber and not
Worry so much
About looking clean

I continue to be amazed and grateful for the connections created through poetry circles facilitated by Ali Grimshaw. ❤️ https://flashlightbatteries.blog/

October Rain

I hadn’t given
Much thought
To the difference
Between Spring
Showers and
Autumn rains
Until today’s
Much needed
Precipitation
I could smell
Its approach
Last evening
In the cool air
Preparing for
A steady fall
All-day, gently
Drawing attention
To the hues
Of the season
Giving a final burst
Of color to leaves
Before they fall
A sweet reminiscence
From the very beginning
When Spring showers
Soaked the ground
Giving life to
The seed waiting
Ready to grow
Having no idea
What a beautiful
Life it would live

October Drought

Muted colors
Hazy sky
Tired eyes
A thin film
Masking
Autumn
As if looking
At the world
Thru obscure glass

Not the expected scene

Bright yellows
Burnt oranges
Fiery reds
Fair sky
Cool, crisp air
Waking senses
What I remember
What I hope for

Praying for rain