If I were a kite
I’d lean against
My favorite oak tree
Enjoying the shade
and the company
Waiting for a breeze
to lift me high
So I could fly
above the trees
Arms flung open wide
Gliding and giggling
Taking in the beauty
below, offering patches
of shade for the tree
before floating over to you
You, standing straight
and tall in the middle
of a flowery meadow,
holding steady to the handle
If I were a kite
You’d be my lifeline
Tag: Sunday
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
Simply Sunday
Which Question
After my arrival
Before my passing
How many seeds will I sew?
Whether scattered haphazardly
In knee-jerk reactions
To daily irritations or
Carefully sewn in love
With the intent to encourage
Both have the power to grow-
Seeds of frustration
Burrow deep
Expanding the crevices
In despairing hearts
Seeds of kindness
Take hold
Increasing hope
For healing hearts-
Truthfully, the results
Are not mine to know
Only my intent realized
Right before or right after
The seeds leave my hands-
After my arrival
Before my passing
What type of seeds will I sew?
Simply Sunday
Surprisingly Beautiful
Have you ever
Felt surprised
By being surprised?
It is a curious feeling
Like realizing no matter
How beautiful
The sunrise
On any given morning
It can be
Beautifully
Different
On the next–
Security may reside
In the routine
But hope radiates
From the surprising
Simply Sunday
Beautifully blushing
In pinkish–reds
While sheepishly saying
Good morning–
Though partially hidden
Managing to draw
The attention of all who pass by
Certainly a contrast
With her wide-awake
Bright–white afternoon smile
That only grows brighter
With the approach
Of my mid-day yawns–
But she will soon be yawning, too
Slipping back into her colors –
This time muted, yet majestic
Giving me hope that
Those yawns will soon
Become sleepy eyes
Carrying me to restful dreams
Simply Sunday
Things to Notice When the Power is Out
The steady rhythm
Of rain falling outside
Interrupted only by
Contented purring of the cat -happy
To be your only
Distraction-
The way my eyes
Notice and adjust to
The light sneaking in
Through glass windows
And doors -
An appreciation for
A simple cup of hot tea
After patiently waiting
For water to boil
On the gas stove–
The quiet peacefulness
Possible when the
Outside world is
Temporarily blocked -
Simply Sunday
Up Ahead
I see you up ahead
Peeking out from
Around a corner
Wearing a curious smile-
You used to be
Much further away
Another lifetime away
But now my sight
Is surprisingly clear
Considering the distance
My heart has already covered-
Strange, I thought it would take longer to reach you
Even the thought of it
Made me nervous
Not knowing how different
Our reflections would be
Yet, catching a glimpse
Of your curious smile
Around the corner up ahead
Assures me that it will be okay
Simply Sunday
Cleaning out
Throwing away
Rearranging the old
With the new –
Changes in my
Surroundings
Open doors to more
Than simply a room-
New perspectives
For eyes and heart–
On this day, the view
From where I sit
Warrants only gratitude
Simply Sunday
Oh, Bother
It’s not the getting older
That bothers me
Yes, I often wish
My body felt less stiff
My joints were less achy
But it’s not the getting older
That bothers me
Aging is a natural progression–
I’m beginning to understand
What bothers me-
It is the time passed
Compared to the probability
Of the time remaining
Life’s great happiness is to be convinced that we are loved. Les Miserables, Victor Hugo
Simply Sunday
You gave me a wide place for my steps under me,
and my feet did not slip.
—
2 Samuel 27:37
COUNTING STEPS
It begins with
The very first ones
Celebrating
As little legs
Move faster
Go farther
Grow stronger
But do I continue
Counting only for
The sake of numbers
Or contemplate
The imprints
Left behind-
There is a choice
Adjust my steps
Gentle to firm
Hasty to calm
Dependent on
Current conditions
Guided by love
Or tromp thru
Each new season
Unaware of anyone
Or anything but me
Leaving no benefit
For those following
Or walking alongside-
Accepting my steps are numbered
Making sure each one counts
Piano Girl 