Life's Unexpected Journey
Author: Carol Welch
Date: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Out of Season Wonderland
Through the Human World
Our Day of Honor
May's Wonders
Nursing Home With Dignity
Phone Solicitors
Triumph of the Positive
Unpredictably Assured
Flight delight
Dubious Romantic Resurgence
Many-Charactered Stars and Stripes
Hats Off, Dad
Seasonal Time Adjustments
Good Morning, World
Water, the Gift
Humor's Gift
Patience's Dividend
Cute, But Destructive
Summertime Ways
Laughter's Choice
4-H Beginner
Mosquito Misinformation
Rooster Roust
Opening and Closing
Out of Park
August
Point of View Therapy
Challenged By a Garden Snake
Spirit Speak
Growing Flowers
Trying ways
For a Worthwhile Message
Effort and Reality
Plain chambray
Soil and Farmer
Joining to Grow
Senses Harmony
Beware the Snare
Garden Foreseeing Fall
The Time of Harvest
The Quagmire
Moon's Charming Phases
Wise Guidance
Disheartened Assistance
Gustatory Gusto
Exchange of Weight
Autumn River
My Inverted Visitor
Mixed October Blessings
A Sonnet to Autumn
Correcting My Imperfect Choice
Manifesting Morning
Remedy for Negligence
Credit the Originator
Time to Write
Fantasizing Flight
Looking Back on Summer
November Foretold
Black Velvety Warning
Goals and Buoyancy
Adjusting to the Seasons
Spooky Planning
Falling back or On Face
How to (or not) Gain
A Risk in Big Hands
Traveling Between Loved Ones
In-law Indeed Endeared
Beloved Auntie's Downfall
Voices Crying in the Night
Education Coach
Thank You Lord
All Around Us
Outlove Life's Hazards
Varied Gifts of the Strand
Merry Christmas 2013
Miles Away At Christmas
Thanks at Christmas
My Song This Christmas
The purpose-plot
Day's Possibilities
Musical Transportation
Picking Up Or Packing Up
Sunday and Every Day
What Goes In
Not "Who's Right"
Martin Luther King Jr
Today I am thankful
Questions and Actions
Let Our Perception Bless
New Day in Varied Climes
Is That a Snake?
How Turned?
Hard Knocks and Strong instruction
Act on the Inspiration
Sun and Rain in Their Place
Constructing in Love
My Startling Friend
Receiving a Child
Curse or Disperse
Halfway Up or Down
Enhancing of Words
February, We Salute You
Forced Change
Happy Upcoming March
Whirling Wonder
Daylight Resignation
Guided to overcoming Blocks
Recollections of Bob
Enlightening and confusing
Joy Over Censure
Dreams
Fantasy Fulfilled
Trust the Great Planner
Beginning April
Blessed Blank
What Soil Is Found
A Limerick of New Life
Mortal Frame
Unpredictable April
Getting It Done

Out of Season Wonderland

Voila! Some fairy wand, it seems
has proudly grasped our fresh, spring world.
Last night, new grass edged rippling streams;
today, we view white lace unfurled.

Tree limbs' dark buds, foretelling blooms,
decked with lavish, plushy ermine furs.
Slender twigs blend into frills and plumes,
and bow to regal whipped cream conifers.

Marshmallow images entice the mind;
forget the spade and hoe, for now, delayed.
like fairy tiptoes, leaving, in their path,
work-a-day; let mundane lightly fade.

Ingenious confectioners design,
elaborate, pristine-- like wedding cake,
intact til forceful sun begins to shine,
then blends intricate forms into the lake.

One by one, soft clumps of snow in dollops.
drop to bare the dark, slick dripping limb.
Sun, the snow, the out-of-season, wallops,
a short-lived, lovely, novel interim.

Through the Human World

A little corner of the world named me,
a little corner of the world named you;
I need to respect your right to be;
you, also, respect my right to do.

What happens between us when a lack
of respect and caring takes the fore?
An insult flung and a blow snapped back.
Can our selves, harmed thus, find peace once more?

One corner resolves, perhaps by force,
those who are perceived as wrong must yield.
Defensive action, taken, makes it worse;
can relationships, and even lands, be healed?

Can words of love and healing acts of peace,
noble heroes sanding in the gap,
as disputes are spread, cause trouble cease?
Our errors seem dumped upon our lap.

Our Creator, who made us, and provides,
for our needs, sufficient if we are fair.
The human race, if not taking sides,
could learn to communicate and share.

It has spread throughout the human world.
Where is the right to do and right to be?
How to avert the angry weapon hurled;
it seems to reflect on you and me.

Our Day of Honor

It's on it's way, the bright gateway to summer,
when out come boats, and picnics fill the plans,
turning to thoughts of honor. Brass and drummer
lead a spirited, patriotic caravan.

To remember those who passed in brave endeavor,
keeping our country free, our home secure,
we plant flowers, in devotion hold forever,
those who risked, nor flinched, to prevail and to endure.

Bold flags fly high, rifle reports salute,
while scouts and veterans, families, in awe,
Admiring hearts with heroes' renown impute,
who gave all to preserve our peace and law.

In the blush of spring , we also show devotion,
with flowers and with visits to the grave,
of beloved friends and dear kin with fond emotion,
as, overhead the flags and spring leaves wave.

It's on its way, the bright gateway to summer,
when somber thoughts of loss to gratitude arise.
Spring, although it's sometimes a latecomer,
hails cheer in our free land 'neath spacious skies.

May's Wonders

Faint willow's green breaks up the bare twigs' gray.
Fall's sere and brittle leaves sparse promise hold.
Warm showers come along and wash away
the winter's bondage and lets leaves unfold.

And, oh! Hepaticas, lavender, white peek forth,
sassy, yet delicate, they push brown leaves away.
Do you behold the south wind's victory over north?
See there; it happens faithfully each May.

Now rolled-up jeans show barefoot, muddy toes,
and tadpoles emerge where frogs sing in the slough.
Wild geese claim a hidden spot where iris blow,
when spring wakes up, and all things grow anew.

May sings her song through sonant throat of bird.
She paints a masterpiece in delicate pastels.
Listen closely; soon in nests peeps are heard;
marshmarigolds mimic sunshine in moist dells.

Just look around; the world her gown renews.
embellished with reddish, opening maple leaves.
As white plum blossoms soon come into view,
we revel in the newness Maytime weaves.

Nursing Home With Dignity

Before daylight, she pulls into her parking place,
prepared to spend the day attending others' needs.
A skilled and able hand, quick eyes, a smiling face,
charts, mood, and well-being, of those in her care, she reads.

Depending on the organization and regard
of those who keep a clean and gracious place to come,
For a warm environment and safety guard.
She's a friend and worker in a nursing home.

Some come to dwell because they've reached a place,
in life, care of self burdens excessively
some for a temporary convalescent space.
Personality and need, full of variety.

She picked May flowers in the wakening glen;
he watched the tadpoles by the reedy shore.
They grew up, homemaker, farmer, businessman,
raised families, passed skills, craftsman, entrepreneur.

The days have changed; physical ills life complicate.
Some, where capable feet and legs took them around,
need aid the routines of life to negotiate,
for a time or, for a home, move in and settle down.

Thanks for the helpful hands and listening ears
that make this new home a worthwhile move,
for the interested attitude the story hears,
and treats the lost abilities with tender love.

Remember that the vital lives once lived
are still a part and parcel of their way,
that talents that persist can be revived,
and new acquaintances add life to the day.

The railroad man who on the section toiled,
the teacher, the doctor, available in need,
writers and musicians honoring the loyal,
that persona lives though physical impede.

Hail those who use their sojourn here to lift
fellow residents and show themselves a friend.
Purpose not lost in those that use this gift,
when adjusting and reaching out can blend.

To those who for so many years for others care,
now finding the acceptance to receive,
since providing shelter, food, and clothes to wear,
passing on the "right and wrong" rules to believe.

For therapists applying their skills to restore,
those who creatively find the interest,
activities with the individual to the fore,
work to suit the person and his needs the best.

A community within community, it's needed.
Supporting it and residents can be,
a service we can all be glad we heeded.
Helping more of our citizens live happily.

Phone Solicitors

My telephone is ringing,
though my name is on the list,
no telemarketers, permitted.
An item we have missed.

Solicitors for politics,
social issues galore,
things that never were my picks;
It's like they're at my door.

I don't recognize their i.d..
but it rings on anyway.
to give attention to their plea,
does not make my day.

Triumph of the Positive

I recall sometimes when I've been tried,
by my dear one's ways,
I've found I could turn complaint aside,
by thankfulness and praise.

I would say, "Thank You, dear Lord,
that he's a Christian man,
that he believes and trusts Your word;
in the end, he'll see Your plan."

And, so I went about my way,
peace returning to my heart,
for, though I hadn't won the day,
I felt I' d done my part.

I thought how I'd held back the words,
I thought of, just a'fumin',
shocked what I, then, overheard,
"Thanks, that she's a Christian woman."

Unpredictably Assured

Although today I know my route,
the needs I should attend to,
with every detail well planned out,
I can't predict the end to....

every thing that's on my list,
though valid be the need.
The element that I have missed:
Results aren't guaranteed.

The other guy along the way,
on whom I am depending,
may find his plans have gone astray,
some part of my plan ending.

So, best to plan with this in mind:
It's not all in my power.
A path, even better, I may find,
with every mile and hour.

With lemons, then, make lemonade;
obstacles are to climb on.
When changes come in plans we've made,
new things we'll spend our time on..

The One Who knows the better end
to my pathway today,
tells me He will walk with me
and help me on the way.

Flight delight

The hummingbird outside the glass
rewards my little task.
I found and cleaned the feeder,
and more than I could ask.
he performs outside the pane;
balancing in the air,
his irridescent plumage,
flits in regal flair.

My little bit of sweetened drink,
just poured and filled and hung,
has lured a visual dainty,
melody to eyes is sung.
Among spring's many sights and sounds,
lavished on the attentive,
the pirouette, with whirring wings,
euphoria incentive.

Dubious Romantic Resurgence

You say the current flicks have lost their draw,
they flash and bleed and race and crash and scream.
dashing down shrines and rudely scorn the law.
Where is the hope, that we long for, and dream?

When movie land was launching sagas great,
we gloried in romance that rocked the sphere.
The plots developed at a gripping rate;
Heroes moved us as they conquered fear.

And, you say, now the nether world is creeping in,
with themes of eerie pseudo-sorcery and blood,
combining a Romeo-like , hopeless young love spin;
hearts of the audience with fear and feeling thud.

Can it be these spooky narratives,
full of attraction, intrigue, and fascination.,
hearken back to days that declared, "Romance lives,"
when love was filled with ardor and elation?

Transylvanian vampires lacked the sweet allure,
of the current swains whose charms through gore endure.
If we could dispense with fangs and morgue decor,
we might move to good old time romance once more.

Many-Charactered Stars and Stripes

How jaunty fly the colors in the sun,
while drumbeat, marching feet, and sounding brass,
proclaiming values held and victories won.
Citizens, in gratitude, cheer as they pass.

How peaceful, over sheltered homes, with pride,
they, patriotically, allegiance state.
Don't take for granted her guard of countryside;
to support her high principles, don't wait.

How assuring her air in class or hall,
allegiance pledged, hand, child or grown, on heart,
where, under God, we declare the call,
to be true and each one do our part.

How valiantly, over battlefields, she waves,
ground taken and protected in the strife.
With honor, she announces over graves,
the courage poured out to preserve our life.

How enduring, those stars and stripes relate,
the night distinguished by Francis Scott Key,
presiding, as we sailed on, the Ship of State,
and stands by as we sing, "Land of the Brave and Free."

Hats Off, Dad

Hi Pop, what a wonder,
where you are today.
What hat are you under,
this place in life's way?

Wage earner? Most likely,
it can't be denied;
The man of a family
won't get a free ride.

Young fellow with a little tyke;
guess the baby word.
Or, guiding a wobbly bike,
until balance is assured

You hope and you plan;
maybe fishing gets done.
A daughter, you may dance,
they may learn safety with gun.

Maybe months in the service
will keep you away;
the boys and the girls
grow more every day.

And just when you're getting
used to the plan,
you find that the setting
has changed; he's a man.

Some become grandpas,
and, even past that,
you may hold a great grandchild;
we take off our hat.

The smiles you will smile,
when awards come their way,
hiding tears when the aisle
is walked, her wedding day.

The challenges and blessings,
we'll know you've all had.
You're all wished "Happy Father's Day."
Pop. Grandpa, Dad.

Seasonal Time Adjustments

When Daylight Saving Time commenced,
I set my clock ahead,
No embarrassment I sensed
from staying too long in bed.

The extra time in evening,
lets me get the yard work done.
The longer hours leisure bring,
cook-outs and family fun.

I've licked, I thought, deficiencies,
to which I'm prone to bow.
I've gained in my efficiency;
the week's in order now.

So, Sunday, when I go to church,
umbrella fending showers.
the service is closing, what a lurch;
they've changed to summer hours.

Good Morning, World

Good morning, World; my family's fine;
some are in my home.
Others call or send a line
from where they stay or roam.

The world looks pretty good today;
health is up to par.
Whenever trouble comes my way,
for help I don't look far.

As close by as my latest breath
and present there to hear.
the God of all the universe,
assures me He is near.

Whenever attitude should slump,
I see the darker side,
In the driver's seat, He'll take the bump,
assure a better ride.

Good morning , world, I'm in good hands;
I commit you to them too.
As through hour glass the sands,
sift, He'll bring us through.

Water, the Gift

The first fresh sip that cooled my mouth today,
liquid substance, filling, satisfying, wet,
soothing the dryness, left from sleep, away,
ready to combine with coffee--I'll be set.

Pure fluid, flexible in the extreme,
continues through the day to meet my needs.
Warm shower sprays, invigorating stream;
in my garden, quietly, aids sprouting seeds.

Rapt attention, the bird bath has drawn,
delight of watching dipping, splashing there.
Colorful fluttering adorns our lawn.
then, like the breeze, they mount into the air.

We, too, enjoy the drawing of the lake
or pool, plunge into its entity.
Or, hesitantly, inching, emersion take,
support of water, joy of splashing, come to be.

The first drop on my nose on a hot day,
alerts me, rush for cover while I'm dry,
exuberant laughter, sharing as we run away,
avoiding lightning, downpour from the sky.

When, however, day on day bring clouds and rain,
interfering with plans, we must remind
ourselves how plant and habitats maintain,
lovely rivers and streams flow and wind.

Roaring rapids, furious falls, scurrying streams,
rushing river rapids eventually
follow leveling of gentler terrain,
and, in the course of time , flow out to sea.

Our God in Heaven's care for you and me,
Meeting needs, providing beauty, we can thank.
Roaring river, rippling stream, or storm at sea,
the same substance as the cooling sip I drank.

Humor's Gift

Sometimes the sweetest parts of life are spoof;
Efforts to make sense of it meet futility.
Giggles serve to take the place of valid proof;
realization of the trickiness brings glee.

Surprising resolution to a little tale,
can turn polite attention into mirth.
A mellowing of mood should reason fail,
thus demonstrates a sense of humor's worth.

So, when the heaviness of tedium sets in,
to cut the likeliness of harm in half,
remember, nonsense may the victory win.
If not, it doesn't cost a cent to laugh.

Patience's Dividend

You little worm upon a leaf, striped larva, actually:
I wonder will the day bring grief? Will marvel come to be?
I like to see a future place, a change can bring to you,
as you chew up green leaves of lace, then out of the blue,
as your rows of little larva feet travel up the stem.
your appearance and your function meet, new thing formed of them.

You begin to fasten to the twig, inert, and color changed,
hang in the breeze, a whirligig, insides, then rearranged.
Like life, sometimes dead-seeming things, swiftly may arise,
the way you spread your new-found wings, flaunt color to the skies.
The flower petals, not the leaves, become your dining place.
your curled proboscis now retrieves its nectar sweet with grace.

So, if we're feeling like a worm on this sunny day,
a butterfly may well emerge if patience be our way.

Cute, But Destructive

I've gone full circle, no escape from shame.
Cute chipmunks ate up all my flower buds,
and nibbled strawberries before redness came;
results I worked for all turned out just duds.

I thought,"Trap them. Live traps will spare the pest."
Set out, equip my plot accordingly.
Now, this is where my aims were put to test.
Friends said, "On some poor victim set them free?"

"It's better, just eliminate the source
of all your troubles; traps can wipe them out."
So, intent, I began a different course.
You guessed it. "Killer!", I sure heard the shout.

Now, I have less of rodents dining here,
more beauty in my garden every day.
My problem-solving came. as you might fear.
But I am not about to share which way.

Summertime Ways

Gloves shielding from weed
and lotions that soften,
hairdos that don't need
attention too often,
easy-care denim and no-iron shirt,
someone to launder them too, wouldn't hurt.

Shoes that slip on,
don't bother with laces,
cool breeze on our backs,
warm sun on our faces,
work that we like, time to get it all done,
see some accomplishment, then time for fun.

Springtime with showers,
sunshine and some frost,
bring us the flowers
hope no plants are lost.
The solstice passed; oh how the days fly.
We just welcomed spring, and now it's July.

Picnics and bonfires
make a summer memory.
swim suits, tubes from tires,
river floating is free.
Let's get together, let's be carefree,
cares hit the breeze, make a new memory.

As we gather, hear the laughter
of the dear old friends
Children join in and follow after;
a sweet kindred circle blends.

Laughter's Choice

Laughter, what a gift we're given,
good for psyche, also health.
Interchange by good will driven,
lacking it, how empty wealth.

Oh, the good of lively humor,
lifting heaviness of cares,
not exalting gibe or rumor,
one partaking, better fares.

Laughter punctuating friendship,
meeting of the minds affirm,
sharing of the comprehend-ship,
fellowship that grows long term.

How we flinch at laugh's derision,
disapproval in extreme,
easier to bear collision
than the scoffer's laser beam.

Compounded is the affirmation,
when warm laughter is combined;
hearty the appreciation,
smiles, connection to remind.

So, we laud the kind of laughter
that will buoyant vibes employ.
The state of mind that follows after,
lifts and lilts and sings with joy.

4-H Beginner

"And what," I ask you," Is a Clover Bud?
You little model of a woman, man?
Explain about your small charge, chewing cud;
tell how he fits into the county's plan."

"To answer that is really quite a task;
you see, it isn't just this little lamb.
I'm just beginning, but now that you ask,
it's part of 4-H. Clover Bud is what I am."

Just starting little--learn by doing--shows.
As we get bigger, projects widen too.
Then, what a guy has done, he really knows;
a girl displays results that she sees through.

The project work all peaks at county fair;
results of plans and work appearance make.
Opinions of the judge on our mood bear.
Might we do better on our art or cake?

Now fair takes on an atmosphere of fun,
besides the doing and the friendship shared.
Excitement of exhibiting is done.
Our fun is taking rides that make us scared.

Oh, county fair is great for Sal or Sam.
Now, could this effort get into your blood?
As a tired 4-H'er holds her tired lamb.
"It's all new when you are a Clover Bud."

Mosquito Misinformation

I read--or heard--it as a fact,
but evidence disputes
which gender of mosquito acts
to poke their little snoots
into my dermis, causing pain
and itch that lasts a while.
The way some experts do explain.
brings an ironic smile.

It's said, the male who buzzes 'round
is not the one who bites.
but female, with no warning sound,
discomfort brings said sites.
I tend to differ with this slant;
simply explained, ,just because,
I'm led to itch and then to rant
when I have heard the buzz.

My curiosity grew acute,
I thought, "Explore, then, online."
Google quickly settled the dispute;
wings of both types produce the whine.
Jim, with facts at his fingertips.
reported this trait in advance.
So full of bright and witty quips,
"mosquito-y verbal dance."

Rooster Roust

Oh, Chanticleer, what a royal sounding name.
It would not have been used by those young lads.
With names they'd not dare say, they would defame,
the fierce bird that could tear through denim clad.

As royalty, his finest plumage flaunts,
iridescent, arched neck and plumy tail,
fear of a clash with him, a young heart haunts,
to gather his flock's eggs would likely fail.

Reluctance, the boys' mother would not accept,
but little brother, bound to earn a chance to please,
picked up the bucket, set to face the fury-swept
monarch of roosters, joined by others, to besiege.

No words to call for help, alas, a tongue-tied child
ran from ferocious flapping wings and spurs.
forward rushing, threatening and wild.
A club-sized branch more useful than a curse.

The little fellow pounded, then, and whacked.
Old Chanticleer, humbled, beat a fast retreat;
the lesser roosters, when a leader lacked,
went back to pecking oats and corn and wheat.

Again, no words to claim his victory,
Jim happily brought the eggs he'd gathered in.
Astounded he had pleased his family,
who had no idea what it took to win.

A brother, fazed, "What changed the rooster group?"
was not to be outdone by little Jim.
He grabbed the bucket, headed for the coop.
Soon, raging roosters put the run on him.

Now, little Jim, in hopes of helping still,
tried to warn in garbled voice, not understood,
"Just whack them." Roosters chasing up the hill,
brother swearing off egg gathering for good.

This story seems fantastic, but is true;
an obstacle that surely made life hard,
he could recount with humor more than rue,
acknowledging more of what is gained than marred.

Opening and Closing

Again, the county fair is over;
twigs reveal a glimpse of blaze.
Bumblebees gad in the clover;
earlier sunsets end our days.

New doors open as one closes,
although the present phase we prize.
As we'll say farewell to roses,
foliage fire delights our eyes.

Living in anticipation
makes of breaks the worth of days;
in the moment's occupation,
reality's blessed; the sound, the gaze.

So we plan; results are pending;
each revealed new change we see.
Neither do we dread the ending,
or outset, should we find the key.

As one door closes, worlds commence;
colors change, and sounds revise.
Temperatures, more or less intense,
fire, then ice delight our eyes.

Out of "Park"

Guidance for the day I am requesting,
to set my sights on what is near or far.
Apply the steam I have received from resting,
see, then, it's hard to pilot a parked car.

Available, the guidance I am grasping,
attainable, to travel on or climb,
the myriad of choices leaves me gasping,
possible, just one direction at a time.

Step forward, the direction I have started,
with God's wisdom seeking every day.
Then, options picked, travel on light-hearted,
to see what can be done along the way.

To multitask, now there must be a method,
without a scattered chaos to employ,
a Pilot, wiser, more observant offers
patterns toward serenity and joy.

It takes some time to sit and write about it,
but trust it will appear along the way.
Just stepping forward, open eyes, don't doubt it,
to receive the guidance for the day.

August

We look with satisfaction once again,
at all that we have waited for and toiled,
rich golden hue, the ripening of grain,
a glimpse of crimson, vines on fences coiled.

What we anticipated in the spring,
leaves opening and blooming of the flowers,
turned, trailing grapevines climb and twine and cling,
grown richer with the shortening daytime hours.

More hours in the hammock we should lie,
for dreams are where reality is born,
eyes travel with the lazy dragonfly,
white tassels gently waving on the corn.

Green blanketing of duckweed coats the pond;
bullfrog and turtle watery trails reveal.
Deceived by seeming veil of reed and frond,
a hapless bluetail fly becomes a meal.

Oh, sunset, that its pledge to greet the day,
bold, red sky predicts tomorrow's delight.
Time, marches on, fulfillment on the way;
what' s done in daytime fills the dreams of night.

Point of View Therapy

Father, God, I ask an outlook such as Yours;
remove the hardening of attitudes.
Cause truthful love to fill my reservoir,
see with Your clarity, unmoved by moods.

See friends, with frailties, such as those of mine,
not to judge nor, foolishly, to yield,
but, with respect and kindness, bottom-line,
not falsely perceive an impervious shield.

As You have dealt with me, let me see them,
with each, their heights and lows of life to deal.
It's a stretch, but turn my heart You can,
to accept and, still, to care, what others feel.

Challenged By a Garden Snake

I only wanted the stick from the stack,
and, there you are, to strike excessive fear.
Immovable, your head, looped, rigid, back;
your bright, unblinking eyes just nail me here.

Why does your kind forever fear exert?
At one time, slip covertly from the grass,
now there you lie, serpentine form, inert,
to shock one who would, unsuspecting, pass.

With ochre stripes and black accent, so sleek,
you claim control of what I know is mine.
My fireplace waits for the sticks I seek.
presumptuous, you send shivers up my spine.

I realize that you're a harmless sort;
the Lord made you to do a worthwhile task.
I think that it's those rodent pests deport;
just cease your stare at me is all I ask.

Cold-blooded, then you won't be out here long;
a few more weeks and you will hibernate.
The need for fireplace will come along,
I guess, til then, my quest for wood will wait.

Spirit Speak

Oh, Spirit, speak a word of truth to me,
I need it to begin a useful day.
Each step I take, I ask,.help me to see,
so I can, beneficial, make my way.

Oh, Spirit, motivate me with Your hope,
that energy may buoy me up through tasks
I choose, and with Your guidance, work and cope,
with joy, accomplish what my purpose asks.

Oh, Spirit guide me on the path you choose,
so that the things I do will be worthwhile.
I'll say,"Oh, Lord, my time and efforts use,"
to bring a little peace, perhaps a smile.

Oh, Spirit, let exuberance be there,
the joy that bears us up through daily grind.
And help me see the goodness others share,
one of the ways You can renew my mind.

As You share the longing, my way, to create,
oh, guide me, in my efforts, from above.
Who, kindly grants gifts to appreciate,
Oh, Spirit, motivate me with your love.

Growing Flowers

Sometimes the flowers grow just as we planned,
with blooms and fragrance pleasing ear and eye.
But there are times we missed, and in our hand,
clutched weeds and let desired flowers slip by.

It's good to have the knowledge to perceive,
what is of value, what should be passed by.
What we plant, that result we shall receive;
Prepare and learn what seeds will qualify.

And so it is, I'm learning as I go;
not only choose seeds, but eliminate
the pests that crowd or eat the plants I sow.
To pluck out, repel, tend them, then to wait.

Until the color comes, some just as planned,
the opportunity to give holds sway.
Sometimes the hoped for outcome bright and grand
rewards the plans and efforts made in May.

When growing ends and autumn takes its toll,
We plan again to plant at spring's return.
The beauty or the unaccomplished goal,
can't hold a candle to all that we learn.

Trying ways

Up front, I feel that I must state,
I know wherein my victory lies.
Not to say easy. never late,
and in the process, hows and whys.

As I launch out on projects new,
all in the dark and so resistant
to steps it takes to see it through,
my first attempts are quite consistent.

A shortcut, simply by its name,
reveals the length of effort's span.
But I have just myself to blame,
when it supplants an ordered plan.

To remedy the haste's result,
I approach each and every way.
No good comes from finding fault;
not too late to reassess and pray.

So then, I'll not resort to crying,
but must admit, "attempting is trying."

For a Worthwhile Message

I'm demanding, "Head , awake,
and show me what is in there.
I have challenging steps to take,
a battle, hope to win there."

I need to overcome the bent,
to take the easy way out,
to grasp on to the wisdom sent,
allow the effort pay out.

So, Lord wake up my mind today;
my heart bring into action.
Cause me to venture in a way,
that brings to You attraction.

The words that You would have me share,
experience's recollection,
conveying, there are those who care,
bring love's healing connection.

Effort and Reality

This effort was arduous and taxing,
that the focus be fixed just a must,
no thought of a pause for relaxing;
to begin was a stretch of the trust.

The best part of effort laborious
is when you have mastered the task,
confident in the feeling victorious.
The how and the why? Well, just ask.

When you begin the next endeavor
and give the new challenge a shot,
with new skills equipped, doubting never,
it may seem a snap, but it's not.

You struggle once more through each phase;
the unlikely has come through before.
A bit wiser now, step by step ways,
you hope to accomplish the chore.

Plain chambray

Plain chambray shirts and faded denim pants,
coarse straw hats shaded youthful, sweating brows;
as sudden rainfall rescued thirsty plants.
hay, stored safely, beat the raindrops' dance.
Tired boys prepared to milk the cows.

Dairy cows by habit find their stalls;
singing in the barn quells weariness;
the cool river beckons as dusk falls,
sounds of rinsed milk pails join night birds calls.
River bath, kind evening's cool caress.

Where are the boys who sweat while pitching hay,
who lay beneath the basswood tree at noon,
drank lemonade and hoped, at end of day,
that goals aspired they'd reach along the way,
laughed as the sunset yielded to the moon?

Frayed-edged straw hats live now in memory,
sun burned backs and friendly twinkling smiles,
or protest when the goal sought could not be,
through misty eyes their faces dear I see.
They leave the mark of living, loving miles.

Soil and Farmer

The soil that we prepare and fertilize
brings forth the food and fiber that is planned.
Attentive eyes behold what multiplies
when soil and farmer join to bless the land.

And, so it is with what God would produce;
He sends the word into a needy earth.
Prepared and seeking, some His message choose,
while crowds pass by, not conscious of its worth.

I'm asking now, "Oh, Lord, enrich my soil;
break up the stones that hold Your love at bay,
that I would bring forth harvest from my toil,
with joy to share of peace and love Your way."

Joining to Grow

For soil, we thank, prepare and fertilize,
that brings forth food and fiber that we planned.
Attentive eyes behold what multiplies,
when soil and farmer join to bless the land.

And, so it is with what God would produce;
He sends His word into a needy earth.
Prepared and seeking, some His message choose,
while crowds pass by, not conscious of its worth.

I'm asking, "Now, Oh Lord, enrich my soil;
break up the stones that hold Your love at bay,
that I would bring forth harvest in my toil,
with joy to share, and growing Your wise way."

Senses Harmony

In the birdbath, gratefully,
birds flutter, splash and show their glee.
Little effort spent, and we
receive a gift of beauty free.

Flowers in the garden bloom;
by the roadside just as bright.
make the world a fragrant room,
join enchanting stars, come night.

With our senses, eyes, ears, nose,
ambiance of the earth we hold,
embrace the beauty, smell tho rose,
soak up warmth, feel crisp the cold.

Birds and flowers, sun and trees,
each have their own part to sing.
In the breath of every breeze,
harmony of nature, ring.

Beware the Snare

Beware the subtle snare of looking back,
if we'd made the other choice,
bright, new ideas given voice,
it may seem we would rejoice,
and experience not the lack.

The ways we chose, we've really gone.
Because there is a timeless truth.
decisions we made in our youth,
whether wise or most uncouth,
we could face and move on.

Different obstacles--would we surmount ?
If we'd gone another way,
blessings that we count today
would not be ours, though wish we may,
if we think to stop and count..

Joy in the present if reflective,
Seeing small accomplishment,
relationships as Heaven-sent,
acceptance of each other's bent,
Oh, grant us the perspective.

Garden Foreseeing Fall

I still water flowers with frost seeming imminent;
dig and pull weeds though it makes me need liniment.
A part of my soul, this small garden maintains,
helps keep me grateful for sunshine and rains.

It may prompt ambition; sometimes I'm a laggard,
or needlessly drudge away 'til I am haggard.
The produce is scanty, but brings satisfaction;
flowers in their turn provide some attraction.

Honeybees now clamor in the sedum clusters;
hummingbirds, iridescent, contend like gangbusters,
for sweetness in flowers or feeder provided;
birds, for their upcoming trip, to food guided.

When one flower type blooms, another has faded,
the newness and brightness ward off feeling jaded.
Bonemeal work in to combat the clay hardener;
such are the drives of a small, bush league gardener.

The Time of Harvest

The time is here to harvest what was sown.
bright banners above the street are flown.
Families forget cares;
craftsmen sell their wares.
Politicians make their presence known.

Through years past, we have gathered in mass,
seen lovely queens on vivid floats pass.
We've given a hand
to the clowns and the band,
Saluted our city of class.

From the toddlers with doll buggies small,
to our firemen who guard us all.
Is the medallion found?
We've looked all around.
Fall Festival's here. Have a ball.

The Quagmire

When small items I am seeking,
through my teeth, complaints I'm speaking,
when I, for scant time was eking,
dropped them in the drawer.
The insidious temptation,
blocker of future elation,
regret bearing notation:
dropped them in the drawer

Casual placement now regretting,
loss of time my day besetting,
causing me excessive fretting,
digging in the drawer.
digging in the drawer with panic,
turning livid, turning manic,
location seeming oceanic,
digging in the drawer

Thinking of an ordered process,
craving for predicted access,
with a small iota, success,
find what's in the drawer.
Hopeless, hopeless, will I ever,
before clear thought I sever,
and, beat, admit I'll never
find what's in the drawer

From my subconscious taunting,
things, obscure, dropped in, are haunting,
never finding what I'm wanting,
in that accursed drawer.
Tempted to expletive,
wishing I could unlive,
this job to others give,
in that accursed drawer

Promising myself I'll never,
should I find the thing, however,
the habit from myself, I'll sever,
of dropping things in drawer.
It will be a resolution
for this plague a good solution,
not support the institution
of dropping things in drawers.

Moon's Charming Phases

As day ends once more. I am thankful for,
the moon, whose phases charm with trusty change,
peeks shyly, just a thread, brightness in store,
flirty clouds that touch her lightly, rearrange

the perfection of her glistening arc.
Blue black, the sky offsets the thread-wide blaze,
no rival to the all compassing dark,
among stars that the midnight pasture graze.

How I enjoy the mellow moon at full,
named harvest, hunters', in its season hailed,
brightly beaming, avoiding clouds, spun wool,
another night its shining path is sailed.

But, still, that brave, thin thread, its ember fanned,
travels its brief excursion through the sky,
Father of all, Creator, this marvel planned,
that small, as well as grandiose, please our eye.

Wise Guidance

Lord, God, what a gracious Father,
reminding me I have a choice,
to recognize my stinking thinking,
before it's given shameful voice.

Before I make self-righteous comments,
concerning things I do not know,
or take actions that would backfire.
Sparing me, I thank You so.

Turning outrage into humor,
You soften my heart if I wait,
remind me, disregard the rumor,
diffuse resentment, rule out hate.

As a father allows, wisely,
results if I should disregard,
Your quiet nudge, self will avoiding.
Sometimes the lesson learned seems hard.

But there is joy in comprehending,
why the nudge came helpfully,
resulting change not quickly ending.
Don't stop the nudges, Lord, to me.

Disheartened Assistance

What you ask for, will I find it?
If there"s some hope, I don't mind it;
by the morass, I am blinded,
in your storage nook.
In the spooky, dark recesses,
where concealed and tangled mess is,
what is in there, who can guess? Is
the item for which I look?

You have done it; you have lost it,
disappearance, oblivion cost it.
Could you have thought before you tossed it
in a pile of junk?
I have lost the motivation,
to join you in cooperation;
this convolution spawns frustration.
If I don't leave this operation,
I'll end up in a funk.

Gustatory Gusto

On anchovies and artichoke,
he supped with glorious glee.
Gustatory gratitude he spoke,
so good to hear and see.

We tell of it with tongue in cheek,
though, mind me, it's no joke
for one must seriously speak
of the auspicious artichoke.

So, dine he did with due delight;
it highly hit the spot.
Delicious dessert, deemed just right,
Apple, almonds, apricot.

Exchange of Weight

When sought-for answers come, how I rejoice;
not always in the knotty, serious things ,
but, to revealing of the truth, give voice.
In place of furrowed forehead, my heart sings.

A prayer prayed in joy, I love to speak,
but desperation magnifies each point,
admit confusion, also being weak,
my judgment and my logic out of joint.

Then I turn to You and give it up;
sometimes peace and order take a stand,
exchange the muddled mishmash in my cup,
for enlightenment, contentment in Your hand.

A prayer prayed in joy I love to speak,
because Your power has come and made me free,
of desperation, knowing it's I who's weak,
and it is Your strong hand that's holding me.

Autumn River

On Apple river, drift leaves orange and red;
where tube riders last month lazed along.
A hint of light frost hails days quickly sped;
through bright leaves, winds sing autumn's song.

There's beauty of night with the bright harvest moon,
and days pass with the subtle sweet hint
that temps may grow chilly only too soon;
bits of ice on still ponds catch sun's glint.

It's onward we go in the flowing of years,
like the river transporting changed leaves.
So savor each day in laughter or tears,
unknown each day who cheers or who grieves.

Our future a mystery, the present at hand,
treasured before it slips away;
like the leaves on the river, laughing at land,
we'll live it while it is today.

My Inverted Visitor

Good morning, small, black-hooded avian friend;
your presence on my feeder brings a smile.
Busy little guy, spry efforts without end,
go on, as if I'm not there, all the while.

Your blue-gray plumage, so precisely marked,
like elongated, black-capped chickadee;
in your actions, unique behavior, sparked
by your equilibrium ability.

Needle-sharp, that little pointed beak,
no matter, obscure, difficult, with spunk,
breaks the seed, pursues the bugs you seek,
with busy traverse up and down the trunk.

Your tiny feet dart on the bark of trees;
your intent serious, but, to us, a clown,
an acrobat, do life's necessities,
locating and transporting, upside down.

Singing. "Yink" or "Yank" or "Wha, wha ,wha,"
nasal twang or rapid tremble, mates to charm ,
in summer's heat or winter, cold and raw,
you bring your cheerfulness to town or farm.

From north and west of Canada to east.
south to Texas and Florida, you range.
All-season bird, adaptable to say the least,
you stay with us through weather's drastic change.

Of all God's feathered gifts my feeder share,
with bright colors, markings varied, special song,
I feel a jaunty lift when I'm aware,
my upside-down bird, nuthatch comes along.

Mixed October Blessings

"You old October rain, you're dampening the leaves,"
I say, dismayed, forgetting killing frost has yet delayed.
Hues bright belie the leaden sky that, seemingly, grieves
warm summer's carefree times when daylight longer stayed.

Be it observed, the one who grieves the balmy eves,
basks, also, in the Indian Summer break October brings.
Bright, sunny days that further augment dazzling leaves,
distant skies, alive with migrating birds' brave wings.

Oak leaves, edged with ruby, staunchly refuse to fly,
while saffron elms submit, with steady showers drenched,
Bright hues belie the whelming of a wet and leaden sky,
like flames whose sheer intensity cannot be quenched.

The rains, so needed in dry summer's parched expanse,
when prayers arose to bless developing fruit and grain,
now come to replenish, though detained past our best plans,
the water table revels in the abundant rain.

A Sonnet to Autumn

"You old October rain, damp'ning the leaves,"
I say, dismayed, forgetting killing frost's delayed.
Hues bright belie the leaden sky that grieves
warm summer's carefree times when whimsies played

We see, the one who mourns the balmy eves,
may bask in warmth that Indian Summer brings.
Bright, sunny days that accent dazzling leaves,
distant skies, with migrating birds' brave wings.

Oak leaves, red-edged, staunchly scorn to fly,
while saffron elms submit, with showers drenched,
Bright hues belie the weight of leaden sky,
like flames whose vehemence cannot be quenched.

So needed in dry summer's torrid days,
rain brings its respite still, in long term ways.

Correcting My Imperfect Choice

My table's a little bit set in its ways;
I bought someone's problem unsolved.
Adjustments, I think how to make day by day,
but to be not-just-right, it's resolved.

It may not come to others' notice like mine,
or they amiably accept what is there.
I sought, at least, level, perhaps even shine.
They, unheeding, sit down in each chair.

Proportionately, it sits in its place;
wood finish and style fit right in.
Not being quite level flies in the face
of my hopes, puts goose bumps on my skin.

Slight elevation by higher foot glides,
perhaps would give balance that I seek.
I won't attempt an arrangement that hides,
where my purchasing judgment was weak.

I'll not make excuses, not even a word,
as I serve on each plate, in each cup.
No explanations or alluding heard,
accept results, just sit down and shut up.

Manifesting Morning

The sky that turns from dark to light
in steps inviting to my eyes.
The shrouded mystery of night,
leaves every time with some surprise.

Today, a mist of golden shine,
still veiling the horizon's view.
but silhouettes of timberline,
underline day bright and new.

Another day, it drooped and wept,
but nurtured foliage, thirsty then.
Today, into the light, it stepped,
and all around is fresh again.

A restless sky of windswept cloud,
excitement stirs within the heart.
Daybreak rides on chargers proud,
and brings to view, storm's boisterous start.

The sunset may have lent a sign;
we might expect the wet or dry.
Revealing, subtle hint design,
is the wonder, morning sky.

Imagine, what an Artist's hand,
who brought such wonders to our eyes:
subtle, mysterious, or grand,
each day unique, the morning skies.

Remedy for Negligence

My conscience said, "don't leave a hidden flaw."
The subject of this humble tale is prone
to leave mistakes concealed; unwritten law
says, " In your psyche, your neglect is known."

Although perfection may not be the outcome,
the effort to do right will pass the test.
To be at ease with what I've brought about, Chum,
the project's done; I've given it my best.

Go back; undo, redo the thing correctly;
uncover the mistake I know was made.
Though seeming endless, when attacked directly,
a job done rightly leaves one amply paid.

Credit the Originator

Idea not so safely shared with fellows:
men like the concept's dawn to be their own.
The other side of this, my viewpoint mellows;
my counter thought I can enjoy alone.

It may be I can have a thought for sharing,
and it can be received quite graciously,
should wisdom come to override my daring,
and credit his originality.

I lie awake to think of his ideas,
and how I can assist these plans to fruit.
Although I know I'm not as smart as he is,
some action may be prompted, being cute.

Time to Write

When thoughts are flowing, put the pen to pad;
It's time for words to do their task assigned,
to gather scattered notions you have had;
record them; don't trust keeping to the mind.

The spoken statement drifts off in the air;
the hearing ears, though meaning well, dismiss,
and even the originator bears
a hint of faint impressions, much remiss.

Thank God for words of prophets, sage, of old,
whose scribe, so faithfully transcribed each phrase.
We read now precious truths they wisely told,
painstakingly preserved until these days.

We say, "Our words have little substance now."
So, too, was said of statements of renown.
And, though we do not know the why or how,
they may bring timely truth if written down.

Fantasizing Flight

How often in imagining do we
explore in thought the vastness of the sky,
and think how lightsome, boundless and how free,
could we be like the birds above and fly.

Imagining the graceful dip and dive
of swallows swoop or puffins frisky play,
the song in flight of skylark, so alive,
I merge with birds, in fancy, fly away.

Above the housetops, past our town, I fly;
the mighty Mississippi beckons me.
Beside the trumpeter, noble swan, on high,
I view the broad extent of land and sea.

Among the noisy blackbirds' busy wings,
wee heartbeat of the tiny hummingbird,
whose filmy whir of flight within me sings,
negotiates flight lanes without a word.

Looking Back on Summer

Onward dance the dance of summer;
see corn tassels fast emerging .
Swaying of the ox eye daisy,
children counting out, "He loves me."
Duckweed, green upon the farm ponds,
dog days follow, morning haze.

Dance the dance of dews much cooler,
toes that crave a bit of cover,
cold feet, morning; heat at noontime.
Skip along; blackberries gather,
time, now, to glance back on summer,
look as sumac hints at red.

Although we accept your leaving,
your adieu we tend to sidestep
Things good end, but please don't hasten.
summer two thousand thirteen.

November Foretold

November's grimly peeking through the glass;
seems bleak for those who to the summer cling,
resist the change as ordered seasons pass,
forgetting late fall has its song to sing.

The wind that whirls the leaves in random piles,
the bonfire smoke and cheery starlit nights,
brisk day times, we enjoy or put the miles,
behind us, driving south or book our flights.

For those of stouter hearts or those employed,
the fall entices with its outdoor charms.
Long-planned treks of hunting are enjoyed;
the fullness of the harvest stored on farms.

Those winds that shifted northerly, now whistle,
relenting, they may whisper in the eaves,
a softening of summertime's dismissal,
enlivening the attitude that grieves.

Another feature of the present year,
though governmental hassles do persist
A Nation Under God has one less fear:
No national elections on the list.

Anticipate November's kindly time;
Come sit, enjoy the theaters' song, or play.
Loved Indian Summer, feature of this clime,
foreruns the queen of fall, Thanksgiving Day.

Black Velvety Warning

Black, velvety morning, secrets conceals,
soft blanket, warm slippers, and cuddly gown,
Outside is a mystery; inside, it feels
like a nest of warm eider down.

Any cell of chilliness, slow to go
will be banished by flame on the grate,
Rose, fragile, bows to rain, soon to be snow,
rues its timing, as season grows late.

Black, velvety sky now yields to gray dawn;
dimly seen edge of tree line appears.
Unrealistic folks deny summer's gone;
drooping hedges affirm roses' fears.

In only a couple of weeks down the way,
it will be a bit lighter a while,
until tilt of earth decreases the day,
We are back into standard time style.

Black, velvety sky in the evening then seen,
as the days shorten up to the time
when the solstice comes, and time in between,
sees no daylight saved, in any clime.

Goals and Buoyancy

Again, let's look; the outset seemed to soar,
at least, to launch a little from square one.
But thought, to lift or open any door,
is progress sought, or merely having fun?

Can soaring be achieved in little hops?
If so, I'd say we're surely on our way.
Content with knolls, will we seek mountain tops,
or reach for only goals that pass today?

The steeper way, it's said bodes higher heights,
tasks arduous, fulfillment, deeper gain.
Accomplished climb rewards with vaster sights,
when zeal and passion outstrip stress and pain.

Oh, grant the wisdom and the trust, my prayer,
to strive at tasks when striving is the best.
Lord, faithfulness and strength, the needed bear,
heart light, to skip and sing through all the rest.

Adjusting to the Seasons

Impending, descending, unending,
rain-mixed portent hints from the skies,
exciting, inviting, delighting,
to hunters and skiers--tough guys.

October, snow-phober, too sober,
are we dreading before it is due?
But, wimpy, clothes skimpy, gone simpy,
more fall days I'll take, snow for you.

Preparing, now daring, declaring,
with down jacket, ski pants, and boots,
I'll face it, embrace it, showcase it.
When November has passed, no disputes.

Persistence, existence, long distance,
months too long between leaves and new buds,
but, hopeful, green slope-ful, heliotrope-ful,
spring comes after (we trust) small floods.

Spooky Planning

Sly peeking, muffled speaking, mischief wreaking,
they plan for the fall holiday.
Secrets, poorly kept, giggles intercept,
sedate activities underway.

Retailing, unfailing, levity hailing,
sales racks teem with costumes bizarre.
Characters, strange; angel, what a change!
a goblin, ghost, or movie star.

Sky darkening, parents hearkening,
motorists who must watch for wee ones,
proceeding to parties or movie, young hearties,
a break from TV with reruns.

Sweets, treats in question, hope no indigestion,
as enjoyment, of that, usually in check,
was gathered galore from sweet neighbor and store,
by kids disguised as Snow White or Shreck.

Capricious, adventiitious, fictitious,
this, too, must exhaust its fun stay.
Promoting the spooky, kids making it kooky,
tomorrow, can it be, All Saint's Day?

Falling back or On Face

Falling back, it seems, can be a gain;
getting to church ahead of time,
by daylight, not dressed, is no crime;
Sip leisurely on juice of lime,
no matter if some slackening detain.

The clock's my friend in fall as you can see.
No fear that time is passing
my habits prompt amassing
since daylight time surpassing,
my watch an hour ahead of time puts me.

To do my hair, time, hope it's looking great.
Nails need a bit more polish.
The news, what should we abolish?
A big breakfast I demolish.
Oh, no! Time's gone. I see that I am late.

No excuse appears to clear me.
My stance of carelessness,
rendered my outset a mess,
Am I organized? Just guess.
Lack of notice, I humbly hope, will cheer me.

How to (or not) Gain

Not knowing what to do, he just did nothing;
The day passed by, and time was lamely lost.
Not jolted into applying hand to something,
then only looking back, he saw the cost.

An empty bag not added to is empty;
a hole that's never dug is bare sod still.
Accounts in banks do not amount to plenty
when no one stocks the shelves or tends the till.

He may know what to do when gain is counted.
"Too late," he may reflect with gestures pained.
It's plain to see why nothing there amounted:
He'd proved that, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

It may not be today, the world I'm shaking.
and may legitimately lack the pep.
No matter, though, if mark that's small, I'm making,
Every journey begins with just one step.

A Risk in Big Hands

The oil cruet held but a bit,
the flour bin near bare.
Brushed together, she formed of it
a bun for two to share.

She sadly kissed her starving son.
famine taking its spoil,
gathering sticks to bake the bun
before death end love and toil.

A man of God came on the way.
She bent to get the wood.
"Fix me some bread?" she heard him say.
Heart jarred, she said she could.

That drop of oil, kneaded with meal,
left an empty nook.
Her eyes, resigned, then filled with zeal,
as the man of God partook.

The empty cruet filled again,
she saw meal in the bin appear,
to make bread for herself and son.
and the man through the drouth years.

If you could ask her how she fared.
"Weren't you afraid?"
She would have told you how she dared.
I think she just obeyed.

It began with hopes so high,
young couples have their needs.
The paycheck seems, though they may try,
just short; want supersedes.

So borrow from George to pay old Sam,
from Bill to square with Paul;
Consolidate at bank--debts cram.
For this month they've paid them all.

Then, short a bit to pay on time,
charge tires, gas, and shoes.
It's honest surely not a crime;
still. peace of mind they lose.

The ads proclaim, "It isn't hard.
just buy these things on time"
An easy payment credit card
would change want to sublime.

And, so to Visa, Master Card,
Discover Card, widespread,
found opportunities, not hard,
to buy above their head.

The items charged on credit cards,
forgotten where they went.
No cash to buy things makes it hard,
before it was earned, all spent.

Despondent, then, seeming to fail.
"How foolish," they say, "we've been."
A credit card comes in the mail;
they're free to spend again.

To the limit work to make ends meet,
keep what has kept their rank.
But companies have known defeat,
financial status sank.

It's happened, belts have pulled up tight,
a look at goods anew.
Could our Maker of us give sight
show the way to make it through?

That woman with the empty bin
may give to them a clue.
Put God first, and begin again;
what daring thoughts--how new.

It has been seen in lives these days,
that when they placed their means,
their first-fruits to support His ways,
the unexpected intervenes.

It may be new perspective grows,
having faced what seemed the worst.
That need or want its order shows,
wisdom comes--spend, but earn first.

On solid ground, or getting there,
through new ways, were they afraid?
They'd say when God made them aware,
they trusted and obeyed.

Traveling Between Loved Ones

A varied patchwork, fields before the snow,
dark green and brown slashed through with road or stream,
or, wider, the meandering rivers flow,
as from my mobile aerie I gaze and dream.

Of home, a little farther north, familiar,
tasks left beckon, " See me now complete."
Or, to the south, beneath another star,
love waits, welcome sent with words so sweet.

So love and duty mix as days unfold,
embrace loved ones, tradition carried out,
buttoning up a home to leave the cold,
not before the heart soaks up each joyous shout.

Landforms announce the progress in the air,
quick the heart that senses miles are few,
envision glowing faces waiting there,
and, nearing still, another rendezvous.

Blessed seasons, glowing in the sun and rain,
glittering in the radiant ice and snows,
multiple times, join loved ones again,
until those days, anticipation glows.

In-law Indeed Endeared

My son, become so through my daughter's love,
fixed there in thoughts and prayers from then on,
know that ever, when push comes to shove,
you're dear as ever were a bloodline son.

Where you have walked the burning coals of pain,
a prayer for you is uttered in my heart.
When joy and satisfaction their place gain,
appreciation's glow its rays impart.

Just remember, though miles come between,
and often months divide together times,
you're loved whether or not you're seen,
I wish more often than I say in rhyme.

Beloved Auntie's Downfall

A lazy daisy flower motif,
she embroidered on jersey gloves,
with colorful yarn, petal and leaf,
one way she showed her love.

What fun to go to Auntie's house,
her knick knacks fascinating.
Handle gently. Many whys and hows,
with patience, her limit stating.

Her baking, oh, the very best,
appearance and flavor glorious.
But scraping bowls, my eager quest,
me foiled, but she victorious.

A rubber scraper, fearsome tool,
removed each slightest trace
of tasty batter, I'd fairly drool.
and regard it with a sad face.

She seems to have a magic way,
following orders on paper.
"A recipe makes it good." she'd say.
I'd think, "but for that dratted scraper."

When Mama has to rush, you see,
the batter is spooned out quickly.
It leaves some in the bowl for me;
I feel smiley, glad and tickly.

Auntie sings every funnest song,
and, if I'm a good up-shaper,
plays games, reads stories, hours long,
but won't lose that rubber scraper.

Voices Crying in the Night

Is that a voice that's crying in the night?
Or is it the sighing of my soul?
It whirls, like vapors, barely out of sight;
the eerie images or strains of fancy roll.

Revisiting a long-lost memory,
a chill may hold or curiosity explore,
and in the night the voice is grasping me:
"Live now, or hang onto days of yore."

Oh, Wind , could be that you are calling me,
or wily beast its untamed longings cries.
Those voices of night enthrall my fantasy,
until I see with day's unclouded eyes.

(Maybe this could be a sort of refrain):
Oh, voice, oh voice of night, you capture me
with fascination, thrill, and mystery.

Education Coach

When a student's ready, the teacher comes,
we've heard, but why so late?
While stumbling through, attempts all thumbs,
to plunge ahead or wait.

And, when he comes, is welcome there?
Do we even recognize him?
Surprising how the bumps prepare,
the ones who come to prize him.

Oh, anyone can nurse regrets,
but grant that we may turn them,
for wallowing, see what it gets,
but if we use, then spurn them.

Oh, when our opened eyes allow
the lesson be held fast.
Apply it; practice in the now.
Use, then let go, the past.

The small vignettes we may recall,
when wisdom showed her image,
were not in vain, if over all,
they have survived life's scrimmage.

Apply it now; it's not too late,
to know the joy of living.
The Spirit who can activate,
can guide the love of giving.

And, little bit by little bit,
in living just today,
we may find a loving teacher
is showing us the way.

Thank You Lord

How to direct my gratitude:
To One who gave, then life renewed,
Who guides me if I heed, each step,
provides endurance, motive, pep.

Who gives me friends my path to share,
senses of His world aware,
the sliver of new moon at night,
a new day greets at morning light.

Principles by which to live,
one day at a time as He will give,
and love, from Him, to others given,
and love received from them, what heaven.

The food and shelter worry free,
provided without thougth from me.
Friendship allows to feel the pain
of others' loss, hold close again.

The words of courage and of growing,
like ripples in a pond outflowing.
Each day Your faithfulness is new,
and so I give my thanks to You.

All Around Us

Amidst all earthly stimuli,
the active working of our mind,
what's brought receptive ear and eye,
our maker seek, His will to find.

The day is new, each one unique
in guided opportunity.
May we hear, and may we speak,
the truth we can receive and see.

The beauty far beyond our art,
mysteries hidden, flowing forth,
revealed in burst to mind and heart,
wood orchid, snowy glint of north.

In gratitude, may we step out,
tallying blessings everywhere;
put into action the inner shout,
apply it to produce or share.

As to the new day we commit,
the labor, business, and art,
worship, love, good will, and wit,
may we sense the Father's heart.

Outlove Life's Hazards

Hello, let's greet a day that's new;
an offered lesson for today,
a being that points out what's true,
and what is cluttering the way.

A little spark to touch the heart,
and clarify impressions held,
will show what wedges us apart,
and what will kindly, warmly weld.

So, listen up, dear, as you write,
for love is bringing thoughts of hope.
Your attitude tinges your sight,
and influences how you cope.

The situation viewed with love,
is often open to the eye;
what in a world of grab and shove,
through self interest slips on by.

Suspicion, creeping in, the sneak,
can taint the kindest of intent,
and criticism's itch to speak,
delay the grasp of what was meant.

Step out, prepared to see the best,
not fearing love will hide a lie.
Trust God, and He will guide the rest;
direct your step and clear your eye.

Varied Gifts of the Strand

They ride on u-shaped kites and play
on surf boards, muscles strained.
run over waves, aerial ballet,
would-be surfers entertained.

Expanse of sand invites the feet,
skin basks in sunny skies;
clues left where surf and sandbar meet,
gift fascinated eyes.

On the beach, in smaller scale,
an orange bit of spiral shell,
eroded by surf's wave and gale,
poises past the swell.

Fragment of home of citizen
of sea, glistening and wet,
on edge, seeming alive again,
a temporary pirouette.

Voluminous pounding of the sea,
dramatic show in sea and air,
the beach delivers generously,
to all who venture there.

Merry Christmas 2013

Here, to us, it comes once more,
a treasured time each year,
born, the savior we adore,
friends, memories so dear.

As it surrounds your home and heart,
may love and warmth we share,
in your season be a part,
joy with you everywhere.

May Christmas glow on you and yours,
fill your hearts with cheer,
as every blessing on you pours,
for a good and glad New Year.

Miles Away At Christmas

How do I compass not going home for Christmas,
when, for so many years, I hosted home?
When I prepared , I often felt, "such as it was",
the goal was to rejoice, yes, each one, "come".

I know that Christmas isn't only family,
but, in so many ways, with family shared.
The cold-reddened cheeks, the brushing snow off,
the hugs and hearing how each one has fared.

I have to pray now, "Oh, help me remember,
Christmas is a thankful time to God,
and, while I cherish all that is December,
You, Lord, are the center, not the bright facade."

"'I thank you, Lord, for giving a companion,
with whom to rejoice, sharing Christmas smiles,
marking family love as peak, not canyon,
and distance not relationships, just miles."

Thanks at Christmas

Today,I'm thankful once again
that Father God forgives my sin,
and we can celebrate his Son
Who, here on earth, our victory won
for all of us who ask Him in,
and seek His will day out, day in.

For holiday festivity
shared with friends around the tree.
for family, community friends and more,
A cozy home, wreath on the door.
For choices we can make and live,
responsible our part to give.

For opportunity to look back
upon the day, amend the lack.
Nostalgic tears for times so dear,
and those who shared them with us here,
a time that sentiment can show,
realism's lessons, good to know.

All of you who share your hearts,
in gratitude, life's varied parts.
Find love and then, give it away,
Christmas, more than a holiday.

My Song This Christmas

Let's just say, "This is a new song."
It's for so many that I love the whole year through.
If it sounds a little corny, please, just string along,
wiith me, and you'll find that it's really true.,

I'd like to sing of all the joy you've brought me.
the real issues of life as we have touched;
I'd sing of bits of lessons you have taught me;
your words and actions, too, conveying much.

I'd sing of beauty and the vaue I see in you,
with tones worthy, if I only had the voice.
As warm Christmas greetings now continue,
to see your face right now would be my choice.

While Christmas carols our environment, enhancing,
I picture you around me all the while.
Your sweetness and your snap set my heart dancing,
And, all around me swirls a Christmas smile.

I know that I can sing because He came here;
a joyful noise will issue from my heart.
Because of Christmas--see how He has barred fear,
and thoughts of joy can be the foremost part.

And, so this Christmas, I will sing a new song,
Of you and, oh, how much you mean to me.
Just join with me right now, and sing along,
of how, together, wonderful we'll be.

The purpose-plot

Today, once more, I take my pen in hand,
place motivated fingers on the keys,
with purpose, plot out changes I have planned.

As though the map of future in my hand,
I track the reasoned route before it flees,
as, once more, I take my pen in hand.

Revisions I have thought would make life grand,
based on the ups and downs of memories;
with purpose, plot out changes I have planned.

proposing my own change, not a demand,
I contemplate a life forthright and free,
today, as I, once more, take pen in hand.

I plan a year when I would take my stand,
uncurbed by indecision plaguing me,
with goal, direct the changes I have planned.

With forethought fueled by aim to understand,
why past attempts unsatisfactory,
with resolutions, take my pen in hand,
the purpose--plot out changes, best now, planned.

Day's Possibilities

Salute; a new day bringing sun or dropping rain.
A cloud is beneficial as a ray,
each, nourishing bud and foliage once again.
Who can declare either a bad day?

Why cringe? A new day, bringing snow and gales,
bids rest, the land producing crops to store.
Beauty comes, season change never fails;
following crystal days, come blooms once more.

Salute, a new day waiting for results,
a coming together time for what we sowed.
Temptation to impatience assaults;
it's then steadfastness and faith bear their load.

Salute, a new day, unknown what it brings,
stirs the adventure in the soul.
Whether blossoms bob or north wind sings,
unveiled, may be effects as hours roll.

Musical Transportation

Is it the melody? Are they the chords?
that subtly catch and spirit up my heart?
Or, is it the lyrics, meaningful the words,
lift my soul, and prompting to join in starts?

Is it the thought or the beat from within,
that causes the song then to break forth?
Is it the tone reminds me once again,
of a time or occasion held in worth?

Is it the skip now beckoning my feet,
to dance to the meter of the day?
If feet are for leading, then may they meet,
my heart, by song within, carried away.

The prosaic and common, daily grind,
bearing up, as traveling along.
Enable me, in them, a serenade to find,
and accompany the duties with a song.

Picking Up Or Packing Up

Again, today, I said, "Just let it go;
the point is here, diminishing returns.
Let's cut the losses, no more to and fro.
Skill doesn't measure up, no value earns."

Then, whether from within or from above,
subtly impressed, will that would cast away,
prompts me, pursue what was conceived in love,
perhaps, with renewed vigor, meet the day.

The lack could be, not skill, but tempo based,
the practice, step by step, though seeming slow.
The product of the process, lost in haste,
may be the source of impulse to let go.

So, pick it up. Does it seem vain to try,
that which is seeming so devoid of gain?
What's to lose, the experience to apply?
Improvement never came without some pain.

Chalk up the pitfalls learned along the way;
apply what was effective previously.
Clear the mind of hang-ups from yesterday;
begin again, from weight of worry, free.

Sunday and Every Day

Put on nylons, best shoes, dresses; it's the Lord's day;
let our voices raise in praise once more.
With attitudes as well as tresses, that say,
"Father God and His Son, Jesus, we adore."

And through the week, in work clothes, do we praise Him?
Are our lives a tribute to His love?
In solitude or busy streets, devotion raise Him,
Who can show His will, empower from above.

Our God, Who desires our love and endeavor,
to be in His presence as we are,
Let us seek our gracious Sovereign, ever,
direct our paths and be our guiding star.

What Goes In

I'm awed by its number of functions and features,
but I access the ones that I know.
Seeing myself as an inferior creature,
speed, efficiency rank far below.

The push of a key, be it right, be it wrong,
brings results that would have taken me weeks.
It's the thing nowadays, so I follow along,
Hope I'll get it right, if some geek tweaks.

On the other hand, if bills come incorrect,
or I wait long for the desired screen,
vindicated by its failing effect,
I find blame a most tempting scheme.

I'm sagely advised by an experienced source,
that however much I sigh and shout.
I've heard it before, and acknowledge, of course,
the adage, garbage in; garbage out.

Not "Who's Right"

Strange, that peace, never won by a war,
is fought for, again and anew.
Order in a home, the same way and more,
by contentions seems bent to unglue.

They join with a faction, thought to bring strength,
to achieve what they think to be best,
find they're embroiled in a clash of more length,
alienated, to their sorrow, from the rest.

Could it be, to quietly live our ideal,
would rub off as we lift, speak no ill?
Stick to issues, treat each other as real,
and, best yet, seek our wise maker's will.

If "dissing" personalities we give voice,
are the differences solved by a fight?
When we stand in the shambles, do we rejoice?
Thinking we proved we were right.

Issues are issues; our peers dignity:
Can they in value compare?
As we look for the best, from ire, we hope, free,
could we agreement, through straight thinking, share?

Martin Luther King Jr

How many accomplishments in this vast land,
became reality through muscle applied to dream,
with feet and hand and voice building what was planned.

Heartfelt efforts bring from hope a change to grand,
the seed of betterment in brave heart's gleam,
against the obstacles that blind in this vast land.

We revere the courageous tongue and willing hand,
that strove to bring a people to their dream,
boys and girls, all colors, have the chance he planned.

An unselfish dream, for children of God's hand,
backed those he championed, their share of freedom's beam,
that their work bring them a place in this vast land

A bold, remembered speech, fanfare and band,
laid out the substance of the equality dream;
on the horizon shone the change his vision planned.

His life he paid for progress in our land,
in meeting blocks, advance, although upstream,
that children of diverse color in this vast land,
as was his dream, reap hope from what his vision planned.

Today I am thankful

Today I'm thankful for these many things:
I see I'm not the center of the universe,
and, knowing this, some reality brings;
Life's challenges of today could be much worse.

Though not an obligation, some friends care,
about the little tangles in my day,
and theirs and mine, a privilege to share.
The joy increase, pain is lessened in this way.

The helping hand I may give or receive,
the wry humor added in the exchange,
if well received, some tension may relieve,
and add perspective, outlook rearrange.

To add to all of this, the happenings I enjoy,
a room prepared for sewing and for crafts,
some curtains to sew, progress on a toy,
rain coming down, gently, not requiring rafts.

Additional friends, sharing your dd's,
foundation of each principle and step.
adding to us collective serenities,
shedding inappropriate burdens, adding pep.

I don't know for sure if that was twelve,
and I won't take the time to count.
There are many more if I would delve,
But, think I've overdone with this amount.

Questions and Actions

The wicked, it's said," borrow and don't return."
Do you suppose the words, '"I just forgot,"
can excuse me from that name? I could learn;
Is there a deadline? Oh, I do hope not.

It's said, would you believe? in Holy writ,
" If your brother fails to return your things,
don't demand the giving back of it."
Contradictory? Through it, good He brings.

Among mysteries present in this life,
questions, if you will, still unexplained.
In our inadequate minds bring strife.
Is it by obedience we're trained?

The one who hears His words and does not act,
though knowledge gained, no profit will he reap.
for wisdom does not add itself to fact,
until he sees results, to do is keep.

It's not until we act upon His word,
these paradoxes, difficult, make sense..
The outcome of the truth that we have heard,
is only realized by obedience.

Let Our Perception Bless

I do not understand the gift
so differing from mine;
I seek for one the spirits lift,
not sensing of decline.

And, still I hear the words of old,
foretelling of demise.
Where are the hopeful words of gold,
the outcome that we prize?

The skepticism issues forth,
at unfamiliar ways,
of expression, still the worth,
we're cautioned not dispraise.

Oh, let us, open heart and mind,
Your worthy wisdom seek,
that best construction we may find
as others act and speak.

You speak to us in ways diffuse;
some painful to receive.
Help us to recognize and use,
what Your Spirit would not grieve.

New Day in Varied Climes

The surf beats on the beach with foamy spray;
the winds of frozen northern states drift snow.
Now, each salutes the coming, a new day,
held in a hand we do not see but know.

And, here before me, rises the same sun;
in green or white, the day before us wakes.
Living a brand new day as moments run
each one of us a single journey takes.

Our choice, unguided, or by holy hand,
the present path we take on sand or snow.
still joined in heart by others in this land,
or lands afar where ever prayers may go.

The jungle swelters, cries of foreign birds,
In desert scenes, oases bring relief.
Diverse lives, expressed in different words,
all needing love, respect, peace and belief.

So let's arise, salute the day with love,
for others, as for us, pray blessing from above.

Is That a Snake?

We wondered as we saw this large, dark water bird,
nearly inert, his plumage drooped and fanned,
his long neck craning as if he had heard,
an intruder, but no retreat he planned.

"Why," was my thought, "so vulnerable remain?"
On inclined branch at water's edge, he stayed,
and soon a reason for it became plain.
He was too wet; departure was not made.

Again, we watched a similar bird in flight,
and saw him dip and dive into the bay.
He stayed below the water, out of sight;
then, like a snake, his neck came into play.

Just below the surface of the lake,
his tail the rudder, grace of swimming wings,
neck and head, a gentle ripple make,
fishing bugs and minnows, water-living things.

Much like playful children, he repeats,
slippery dives, reveals to our surprise,
until satisfied, the patient watcher treats
with the fanned-out drying exercise.

How long, the passing hours of the day,
will he perch, drooping, dripping wings unfurled?
Nature-lovers observe another way,
God gives his creatures to live in this world.

Oil in feathers of water birds, innate,
prevents their soaking keeps them buoyant in the lake.
Anhinga, conversely, lets water's weight,
allow him, long swimming dives to take.

So, anhinga, unknowing, entertains,
living out his routine midst branch and fronds.
In a drying spread-out mode remains
until released from feathers' water-soaked bonds.

How Turned?

Oh, no, a rock dropped where we hoped for light;
the burden we anticipated to be gone,
and only gloom where we foresaw a gift.
How will we face with hope another dawn?

And, what seems ground to crumbs, will still proceed;
a promise merely heard, dimly perceived.
In what seems desolate, to meet our need,
a spark of good for those who have believed.

Who works these things in such a wondrous way?
That night with shattering of hope, seemed lost;
that we can see emerging, hopeful day,
the gain of peace and hope without a cost.

Hard Knocks and Strong Instruction

I looked into the past to guide my way,
recalled a warning, history not repeat,
so insights revealed another day,
perhaps apply, this time, to guide my feet.

And, generalizing, this thought is true;
but learning is not stagnant if we'd grow.
The old augments the point of what is new,
and helps keep fresh the lessons we would know.

The school of life, hard knocks, some would say,
gives lessons with experience underlined.
And, what is gathered, in passing, on the way,
is imprinted, enduring, on the mind.

What scale is there to weigh experience?
And, is valid, all that we observe?
When touched by higher, sovereign Influence,
a peace may come, though circumstances swerve.

The coincidence of obstacle so placed,
from encounter, the lesson of today is found.
By strengthening hand, the distress is faced,
and so, the lesson learned this way, made sound.

Act on the Inspiration

It's said in song and hinted in the heart,
beneath the ice and snow, the flower's seed,
that sunshine not yet felt can cause to start,
so hope is there for those who give it heed.

It's best to dance before the band is heard,
and write before the page is touched by pen.
Within, is felt the rhythm and the word;
the new is lived and seems to rise again.

What never has been fostered in the mind,
will never reach the page or bless the ear.
So let our minds and feelings new notes find,
to which we'll sing and see and dance and hear.

The touch that comes the precious truth to bare,
attend, give time, and deeply do explore.
When the impulse from God is hinted there,
take it, try it, lest it come no more.

Sun and Rain in Their Place

The pounding rain persists and puddles on the street;
windows host the streams of of weeping and wet waves
While forecasts hold out hope for sun and heat,
enough that it, the trip near tropics saves.

And those who spend their year in this warm clime,
rejoice, up to a point, for rain's relief,
allowing for abundant growth sublime,
of flowers, sea grapes and the green palm leaf.

As we anticipate the end of rainy spell,
and spirits lift as plans are underway,
enjoy the pleasures that the brochures tell.
of beach time, picturesque, the awaited day.

Sister says it would be nice, a little tan,
to show her friends vacation time was fun,
not having to waste time in salons that plan,
to fake the effect, before the trip is done.

Although it's true, sun, rain each have their place,
and sunshine favors outdoor recreation.
So, let's hope the warm and sunny days,
commence before the ending of the vacation.

Constructing in Love

If building, stitch on stitch, expresses love,
or building, brick on brick says steadfastness,
our hands and the heartfelt results thereof ,
are meaningful as ever one could guess.

So, let us stitch and say, in effort, build;
in what we see and hear and use, a trace,
thoughtfulness and usefulness, so filled,
it lights the object of affection's face.

As building, stitching, forming usefully,
contribute to the good of everyone,
a statement, then, of love may lasting be,
long after dusk has brought the setting sun.

My Startling Friend

Oops! Out the corner of my eye,
a flash that makes me start,
in the grass and rocks they lie;
no harm will they impart.

Some sellers of insurance though,
find in them a ready aid,
with cartooney cuteness show,
endorsement through words played.

Gecko sounding like the name,
of an insurance advertised,
so that may be his claim to fame,
but, for me, for this is prized.

The bugs among the grass and rocks,
that bite me or eat my plants,
he eats before they run amok,
gives pretty flowers a chance.

If you should jump with shock and fright,
and think him harmful, please,
remember geckos do not bite,
unless you are bugs or fleas.

Receiving a Child

Here I am, Lord, Heavenly Father,
showing up again today.
Thanks for saying, it's no bother,
hearing my words when I pray.

Thanks for knowing every small thought,
still accepting me with love.
to receive me, when I have sought,
from Your holy throne above.

Here I am, ideas minor,
opening up to Yours, profound.
Full of hope or sad repiner,
grace to build me does abound.

Your word said that I, with boldness,
may, then, venture to your throne,
in Your greatness, feel no coldness,
as Your child, secure; Your own.

Curse or Disperse

When the problem confronts me, knotty and mean,
what am I prone to do, will I curse it?
Or, shall I in hindsight, replay each scene,
as the bitter thing happened, rehearse it?

Will problems unravel, will feelings improve,
as I brood on the wrong, dwell and nurse it?
God has said in His word, there's an antidote--love;
and His way is, perhaps, to reverse it.

Love your enemies, even those who compete,
He has said, lest we try to coerce it.
Can the miracle happen, bitter made sweet?
Let His wisdom and power disperse it.

Halfway Up or Down

It is when we're halfway up, we're neither up nor down;
when we're halfway there, it just may be the time,
although in our confusion, we seem nowhere around,
how to make our way, advance our upward climb.

Our resources seem lacking, a way to navigate,
momentum lost by faltering confidence
Our hearts may be reminded that we have an Advocate,
Who will clear the way, direct, give knack and sense.

Uncertain in our journey, though the outset be,
no expertise our unskilled state to crown
strengthened by the Almighty Father's hand, we'll see
halfway up is far and away past halfway down.

Enhancing of Words

Words spinning in the atmosphere,
or shuffling around on the walk.
with tinkling edges miss the ear,
or befogged, are heard as idle talk.

In print words, on the other hand,
perceived in black and white,
one can review and understand,
should one take time to seek clear light

Words' likely binding implement,
a relationship may favor,
with interest, also extent,
friendship's benefits savor.

Words heard or read with open mind,
and cherished open-hearted,
can enable one a friend to find,
continued, when it's started.

With input from the Lord Who knows,
to take a bud and bloom a rose.

February, We Salute You

February, we salute you,
shortest month of all the year.
Give a fanfare, ta ta toot you
though your record's cold, I fear.

You have statesmen given birth,
lift many hearts' romantic side,
gave our free nation here on earth,
her first president to preside.

As Washington first forged the way,
our leadership to set down,
Abe Lincoln in a later day,
to equality gave renown.

Who stood for freedom man to man,
led the effort for unity,
though his life taken, many can,
stand up, seen as equal and free.

So, February, the gifts you give.
we'd sincerely like to say,
make up for the month we live,
without a normal heat degree day.

And, though the snow that dumped each time,
the mercury rose above,
zero, and the glare ice and the rime,
we cherished the Valentine love.

But, still I'd have to say to you,
Though summer's heat should parch,
I won't mind a bit to say adieu,
and say hello to March.

Forced Change

What is reluctance? Resistance to act,
when forecasts of doom plague the mind?
Do vague imaginings pass for the fact,
possible action then undermined?

Such things can occur when predictions of doom,
to discourage our travel are proclaimed.
But, do we succumb to the dread and the gloom?
or is a cheerful, hopeful tune framed?

So, it's off to the north though a blizzard may come,
knowing furnaces, snowplows abound,
granted, it's cold outside; hearts with warmth drum.
In our planned gathering, we'll be found.

Let's face it; if planes can't take off at all,
and the flights to far places are nixed.
No one in their right mind would say, "Have a ball."
Some things--absolute--can't be fixed.

Again, thoughts, unfounded, direction may change,
unsupported projections come forth,
An imagined excuse we could arrange,
skip the uncomfortable plan to go north.

Happy Upcoming March

We're welcoming winsome, wonderful March,
with wonderful people like you.
Around us the palms and bright, blue skies arch,
with friends and good days we can view.

Have harsher climes hampered our Marches before?
We can bask in this beauty awhile;
while we're together on this sunny shore,
we join in, sun or clouds, with a smile.

Whirling Wonder

Oh, whirling, whirling, in order they go,
inside their crust and deep down in their core.
Within what seems solid, particles flow,
from tiniest speck to galactic vast shore.

And, whirling through lifetimes each of us goes,
our fellow citizens sharing our space.
Whirling through our being, through joys and woes,
intricate systems comprise form and face.

Each axis, each orbit, in pattern proceed,
to senses bared, apathetic or awed;
Minds, itching to find out the whirling decreed,
in such precision, to learn and to laud.

So, whirling, revolving, within and without,
the vast world orderly makes its way.
A speck such as I may proclaim with a shout,
"Our Maker surpasses all I can say."

Daylight Resignation

It's time to bask in joys of daylight time.
When evenings prolonged have hours of light.
So, now we change a bit our paradigm,
with logic and plain reason put to flight.

Although it doesn't make much sense to add,
what we have deducted from the other end,
for flexible folks, fun is to be had,
in the hours after work days with a friend.

The farmers used to mention that the hay,
did not begin to dry 'til afternoon,
and cows out in the dark were prone to stray,
hide in the bushes, when called in so soon.

Accept, it's gone national, save a few,
who hold firmly, saying nature does intend,
stability. Like, "cut a rope in two,
and add that section to the other end."

Guided to overcoming Blocks

It never did occur to me,
it could be done another way.
What seemed I could not do or be,
and only yes or no I'd say

A wondrous thought then opened wide;
what I lack now, I still could learn.
What was obscured by fear or pride,
could be obtained by a new turn.

It does the heart enormous good,
to see desires long embraced.
What a surprise to see one could,
grasp good things when the block was faced.

It's so with tunes held in the heart,
and not released for want of skill,
that a recording could take part,
to lend the notes, nurture the thrill.

As, when no audience on hand,
and none is seeking to attend,
that a device, constructive, grand,
can on the web, performance send.

So, I can practice with the tool,
provided by the internet,
and, when my skill I thus can school,
perform and broadcast my "uni-tet"

It's when we open up our eyes,
and see it's not all cut and dried.
What other ways to bring surprise,
the One who leads us can provide.

Recollections of Bob

Bob used to walk the roads near Amery,
offering his work in woods, on farm.
with his brother and small dog in their humble property.
though plain, he had an honest, rough hewn charm.
Muttin-puttin, Everett, and me.

Few in Lincoln knew his brother,Everett,
but Bob went out, met farmer, tradesman, clerk.
And those who knew Bob knew that they had met,
a man acknowledged. mostly for his work.
Muttin-puttin, Everett, and me

"Do you need any wood cut or repair?"
In halting speech, his helpful offer made.
He'd walked a dozen miles in getting there,
willing to work a day, modestly paid.
Muttin-puttin, Everett, and me.

With denim overalls, jacket, and rough boots,
his axe and wood tools carried at his side,
he'd do the day's work, each task execute,
only stay a night if earnestly was plied.
Muttin-puttin and Everett miss me.

Then home to brother, Everett, at night,
with Muttin-puttin wagging at the door,
Bob bringing home the bacon, a delight,
and life went on, replenished, as before.
Muttin-puttin, Everett and me.

A young husband, with work spread way too thin,
welcomed Bob, counting his wallet's supply.
To catch up the woodpile would bring a grin,
A good night's sleep, he'd suggest Bob to try.
Muttin-puttin, Everett would agree.

Bob, then, taught him a bit of cooking art,
making gravy with the drippings of the meat.
Smiles came later when he did his part,
giving Bob credit for the skillet feat.
Muttin-puttin, Everett, and thee.

In those days that knew neighbor's threshing crew,
Bob would sometimes help to build the stack..
When the day was through, the road home, he'd view
a day's work done, never one to slack.
Muttin-puttin, Everett home by gee.

Years passed, and, sadly, Everett passed on.
Bob said, "Only Muttin-puttin and me.
are in the house now," and the days soon gone,
the little dog passed on and no more ''we."
Muttin-puttin, Everett, gone from me.

The house was lost to time and to decay;
then, underneath the bridge he made his bed,
until kind neighbors saw and had their say,
set up room in the old hotel instead.
Muttin-puttin, Everett, just a memory

The axe no longer splits, saw's still, you see,
A busy man his slumber now can catch.
He's gone from the scene, and now it is to be,
sparing the old tree he would once dispatch..
Muttin-puttin, Everett, hearing the account with glee.

Now, sometimes misty memories arise;
halting words offer help for a small fee.
vaguely on the road, one walking skims our eyes,
whom few recall, except the ancient tree.
Muttin-puttin, Everett, and me.

Enlightening and confusing

Sometimes a fixation keeps the mind.
on ideas you never thought you'd think.
When you try to retrieve again, you find,
the clinging thoughts just vanish like a wink.

At times we'd like our memories repaired;
at other times, wish vainly to forget.
A wry smile, when thinking how we've fared,
remind us we can go a long way yet.

The brain, obliging, starts before we're born,
Doesn't seem to stop when we're asleep.
trips flightily through phrases filled with corn,
bears down with needs arising urgently.

Of all the many items in His plan,
the Creator has designed a wondrous tool.
Both enlightening and confusing man,
in His hands only, can true wisdom rule.

Joy Over Censure

What challenge to disperse the truth,
without focusing on the wrong.
And still, the harmful beast to sooth,
may weaken virtue's song.

Knowing that joy can be our strength,
worthwhile aims can be extolled,
thus leaving error's breadth and length,
to wither in the cold.

Inspired by the better way,
thoughts lifted, energized,
we find the strength to face the day,
God's power and wisdom apprized.

Dreams

Oh, dream, yes, dream the twilight time away,
'til stars glittering in dark skies stream.
Until the misty dawning of the day,
oh, dream on, oh, yes dream.

Dream of dear ones that have gone before;
dream of today and the days to come.
Waves of surf rising on the shore.
Dream, oh yes, dream, of someone.

Oh, waves, their swelling rhythm hear;
across the sea, someone hears it too.
Though far away, dreams may bring them near,
tonight, tomorrow, a day ever new.

Fantasy Fulfilled

If ever you walked in fantasy,
you notice somehow in the view.
though seeing things that cannot be,
the subject may be you.

The hero placed in our fantasy,
setting the languished victim free,
the likelihood of what can be,
Can it be you or me?

The greenish gremlin, jealousy,
resides in other hearts.
What in our daydreams seems to be,
may backfire boomerang darts.

Sad tendency to find the fault,
where goodness, too, may well preside,
suggests why deep within a vault.
defended, lies a stone of pride.

So, while wool-gathering, perhaps,
small subject of this fantasy,.
defensiveness may tend to lapse,
and set the bound one free.

Trust the Great Planner

Oh, look around, the rose-toned sky, inciting thunder,
the blackbird warily pursues a creeping prey.
Large and small, the world is greeting us with wonder,
With open eyes and minds, we'll meet a brand new day.

Oh, Father God, what surprises do You hold out for us,
that we may seize each hour and live it to its full?
Will it be the nitty-gritty or grand chorus,
revealed as we step forth, feel life's compelling pull.

Not allowing for our former preset expectations,
to cancel the surprises on horizon's rim,
But, ready to live out the day's formation,
trusting the unfolding of the time to Him.

Beginning April

Remember all the silly things,
we planned or had planned for us,
to our humorous recall brings,
a laugh and giggle chorus.

How Mama made the cotton pie,
in crust so neatly fluted,
and Daddy, when it met his eye,
suppressed his shock and hooted.

Or when our big brother was told,
he had his socks on backward,
actually looked down to behold,
we laughed when he felt awkward.

Nonexistent people at the door,
a standard ruse conspired,
and who knows what went on before,
Ideas too naughty, retired.

Fake phone call from the IRS,
or Publishers Clearing House,
tricked, were millionaires, we guess,
or poor as a church mouse.

Got by with silly hee-haw,
only allowed at this time,
hard-boiled eggs exchanged with raw,
though we had to clean the slime.

Fun, if 'first' came on weekends,
hard to do it before school.
laughing about it with school friends.
who whooped; they, too, could fool.

As we start a brand new month,
down to our work we'll buckle.
After we've enjoyed the "oneth"
begin it with a chuckle.

Blessed Blank

Blank slate again, a gift, it feels so strange.
Again, launch out, hours coming, similar;
if I choose to be guided, will I change?
The status quo the mark, or raise the bar?

Look back but to assess the ground that's gained;
new dawn, uncluttered, each step now advance.
A day worthwhile, in retrospect attained,
where learning holds both drudgery and dance.

The man we've known, not only what we thought,
see attributes in dear ones we'd not sensed.
Blanks holding opportunities uncaught,
and self-deprived fulfillment recompensed.

Oh, bring this gift, that the familiar scene,
displays the opportunity anew,
what, rushing by, was passed as 'might have been',
and what can be today, a grander view.

What Soil Is Found

Around me, all around, I see the seed,
potential in them, scattered, hopes to grow,
falling on hard packed ground, just birds to feed,
where, then, the harvest planned for, when we sow?

On thin and shallow soil, some seeds may sprout,
their fate, sere scorching, wilted by the sun.
No quenching moisture, frail roots do without;
soon after they spring forth, their life is done.

Among dense thorns, though produce is desired,
deprived of light and choked of fare, they pine.
Entangled, little growth has then transpired;
no one finds fruit or grain on which to dine.

But, cultivated, deep and fertile soil,
encourages the seed to sprout and grow.
Now, multiplied, a profit for the toil,
with joy, the bounty reaped for what we sow.

Like seeds, hope of success depends on where,
the message finds its ground, or snatched away,
and distorted, ill-aimed, received in error,
or unencouraged, weakness, then falls prey.

Entangled with the world's confusing ploys,
an open heart and mind are compromised.
Keep our soil deep, receptive to the joys,
Heavenly peace and love, the gifts most prized.

A Limerick of New Life

Here's a Limerick to tell of the grace,
of the One by whom salvage takes place.
He reached down within,
when admitted as sin,
what was too much for one soul to face,

Gently held a mirror to my denial,
justifying my part in each trial,
In love, called a defect,
what I'd tried to protect,
He'd remove it, walk with me each mile.

Choosing to minimize or embellish,
Oh, those memories I do not relish.
Only One that could change me,
gently show, rearrange me,
with His love, I'm improved, not angellish.

Looking for miracles? Don't look so far.
It's not just distant land, far-off star.
Look in the closest heart,
where despair brought the start.
Things that were there no longer are.

So, thanks to the God of my soul,
Who, when asked , would, in love, take control.
A creature that's new
greets each morning's dew.
Keep me close, thanks, as vast ages roll.

Mortal Frame

It's in this very frame in which I dwell,
resides the essence of mortality.
While vibrant life invigorates this shell,
no limit of my time and strength I see.

In youth, when one is faced with a close call.
of finite life, a shadow shows its face.
We suddenly may see, faced with the wall,
our temporary spot in time and space.

Youth, by its nature, with the punch may roll,
eternity's view grasp, or pass it by.
May I, with gentle cherish of my soul,
embrace the truth by which to live or die.

Grant, when enough this mortal path I've trod,
I may reach out and clasp the hand of God.

Unpredictable April

It's almost slipping out of sight,
April's magic span.
Expected showers came in white,
masking springtime's plan.

The willow's bearing of her kittens,
slipped by in spells of snow,
and back again to winter's mittens,
when stormy breezes blow.

But, still, the robins, bold, appeared,
and Easter hosted sun.
Briefly for summer days we cheered,
Kids begged for barefoot fun.

Voila! The mercury dipped low,
but local life moved on.
The local government said "Hello",
our new mayor took the baton.

So, full of hope, the seasons change,
main street the trend embraces.
And, now, hurray, the month of May,
flowers and farm market places.

In short, it's, if the fact be known,
reserving expectations,
seasons in this temperate zone,
faithfully come, with variations.

Getting It Done

There's a sober, serious truth,
demonstrated and clear from our youth;
Though we whisper it or choose to shout it.
Be it strenuous or fun,
it will only be done,
by doing, not mere talk about it.

Table of Contents

Out of Season Wonderland
Through the Human World
Our Day of Honor
May's Wonders
Nursing Home With Dignity
Phone Solicitors
Triumph of the Positive
Unpredictably Assured
Flight delight
Dubious Romantic Resurgence
Many-Charactered Stars and Stripes
Hats Off, Dad
Seasonal Time Adjustments
Good Morning, World
Water, the Gift
Humor's Gift
Patience's Dividend
Cute, But Destructive
Summertime Ways
Laughter's Choice
4-H Beginner
Mosquito Misinformation
Rooster Roust
Opening and Closing
Out of Park
August
Point of View Therapy
Challenged By a Garden Snake
Spirit Speak
Growing Flowers
Trying ways
For a Worthwhile Message
Effort and Reality
Plain chambray
Soil and Farmer
Joining to Grow
Senses Harmony
Beware the Snare
Garden Foreseeing Fall
The Time of Harvest
The Quagmire
Moon's Charming Phases
Wise Guidance
Disheartened Assistance
Gustatory Gusto
Exchange of Weight
Autumn River
My Inverted Visitor
Mixed October Blessings
A Sonnet to Autumn
Correcting My Imperfect Choice
Manifesting Morning
Remedy for Negligence
Credit the Originator
Time to Write
Fantasizing Flight
Looking Back on Summer
November Foretold
Black Velvety Warning
Goals and Buoyancy
Adjusting to the Seasons
Spooky Planning
Falling back or On Face
How to (or not) Gain
A Risk in Big Hands
Traveling Between Loved Ones
In-law Indeed Endeared
Beloved Auntie's Downfall
Voices Crying in the Night
Education Coach
Thank You Lord
All Around Us
Outlove Life's Hazards
Varied Gifts of the Strand
Merry Christmas 2013
Miles Away At Christmas
Thanks at Christmas
My Song This Christmas
The purpose-plot
Day's Possibilities
Musical Transportation
Picking Up Or Packing Up
Sunday and Every Day
What Goes In
Not "Who's Right"
Martin Luther King Jr
Today I am thankful
Questions and Actions
Let Our Perception Bless
New Day in Varied Climes
Is That a Snake?
How Turned?
Hard Knocks and Strong instruction
Act on the Inspiration
Sun and Rain in Their Place
Constructing in Love
My Startling Friend
Receiving a Child
Curse or Disperse
Halfway Up or Down
Enhancing of Words
February, We Salute You
Forced Change
Happy Upcoming March
Whirling Wonder
Daylight Resignation
Guided to overcoming Blocks
Recollections of Bob
Enlightening and confusing
Joy Over Censure
Dreams
Fantasy Fulfilled
Trust the Great Planner
Beginning April
Blessed Blank
What Soil Is Found
A Limerick of New Life
Mortal Frame
Unpredictable April
Getting It Done