As the Bucket of Life Fills
Author: Carol Welch
Date: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

©2011 Carol Morfitt

Filling Life's Empty Bucket
The Growth pains of Life
The Diminution of Summer's Song
The Tare's blightful Fate
Children's Renewing spirit
A Misfit's Peculiar Treasure
Self Image's Peril
The Real Card
Another Marvelous Fall Festival
Genius at Work
The Retreat's Sweet Recovery
A Gift of Song
Facing the Fall
Differing a little with the rabbit
Congratulations
The Search for Kind Humor
Sources of Proof
Life's Daily Struggle
The Freedom of speech and silence
Fantasy to Reality
Cow Paths
Discovery and Motivation
Reliving Thanksgiving
Wisconsin Snow
The Bantering of Wits
With Jim in Florida
Forgiveness
Handyman Hero
It's a dilemma
Our Brothers' Plight
Evening Inventory
Christmas 2011
Piercing
Festivities Unending
Cybernetic Ties
Welcome 2012
I'm Glad You're You
Inspiration and Practice
The Garbage disposer
Celebrate the Dream
A Book to Write in
By Harmony We Live
Valentines Show many Loves
Laughters Healing Balm
Orange Dish Variety
Prayer finds Meaning
The Same Sky
Thanks for the Dance
Evening Flight
Botanical Choreographers
Music Nature's Song
Memories of the Popcorn Ball
Soul's Divine Encounter
Lighten the Luggage
Celestial Rejoicing
Rejected Nourishment
Blessings to our Pastor
Well-intentioned Division
Work Styles
Appreciation and wonderment
The Train of Thought
The Memory Theme of Life
April's Rising Crescendo
The Bold Panorama
Call It a Day
Prayer Closet
Happy Mothers day
Line-Drying
Your Student Driver
Home Farm
Red, white, and blue bear meanings
An Ode to a Toad
Happy Father's Day
Fifty-seven Memory
Tucked in with Love
Metamorphosis
Fourth of July
Juggling the Day
Family Visit
From a Dream
Summer's Simulated Square
County Fair Vacation
Flying Bugs

Filling Life's Empty Bucket

I sat, my empty bucket in my hand,
And wondered why no favor came my way.
Would it be gold from rippling rivers panned,
To fill my need with treasure day by day?

The treasure needed, not of gold, but fire,
Could enter my bucket's wee capacity?
The emptiness, what power to inspire
To cause that, which is not there, to be?

A shoulder tap, is someone lacking too,
And, if so, What do I have to give?
In seeking, would I find a strength that's new,
To help another find a call to live?

There is power ready if I seek,
And motivation if I follow through.
I feel the impetus to move and speak;
I find God has the power to make me new.

I tap a shoulder, come my friend and see;
Dip your dipper in my bucket deep.
The love that's amply filling up for me
Is yours to take, to have and share and keep,

It seems to grow the more we give away,
And still the Giver desires our return,
To fill that thirsty bucket every day,
And giving thanks, to live and love and learn.

The Growth pains of Life

You see the tears; you hear the cry,
If not with empathy but scorn,
They're met, frustrated little guy,
An angry attitude is born.

Futile anger turned to usefulness,
As life moves on, we turn the page,
May result in facing common stress
With purpose calm instead of rage.

By trial and error, some may find
Better ways to take and give,
Instead of bitter, become kind;
A mentor's guide, imperative.

A loving arm, a guiding hand,
Wisdom, not always giving in,
Can help a fellow understand,
Life is both to lose and win.

There's a time to stand beside,
To model, to take part, and show,
Kindly reprove and not deride.
A citizen, you've helped to grow.

The Diminution of Summer's Song

It's not what one distinctly sees.
The high reported less intense.
The low slips down a few degrees;
Wetter dews and mists commence.

What was budding, blooms and falls;
Ripening fruit on trees hangs high.
Birds flit in throngs with chirps and calls;
Fledglings' hues intensify.

Anticipation has two sides;
Will mosquitoes, timely, freeze?
Reminder every day provides
Enough, then, for one at peace.

The season's gradual cycling down ,
Or teetering just on the edge,
A night of crispness, droll old clown,
Ignites the barberry hedge.

The groans, "Another scorching day."
Fade away, as we turn in.
Cool air brings rest to weary frames;
Lulled by cricket's sweet violin.

But watch. Just see the status quo,
Now allowed to set the scene;
The sly envoys of fall say, "go."
Flame's color replaces green.

Again, while we procrastinate,
A year moves to its peak,
Slips in before delights abate;
Both regret and welcome speak.

The Tare's blightful Fate

I shudder, "It's a hoe," they say;
Exterminate those such as I,
Whose fate to be displaced, no way!
Spare the rejected plant, I sigh.

The seed, blown blithely on spring's breeze
Found the garden row by chance,
Put down firm roots, rose up with ease,
Will hoe end the upward dance?

Should carrot, broccoli, or flower
Have preeminence?
I grow inches by the hour,
Disregarding row or fence.

I slipped in among the garden plants;
My leaves, in fact, were prettier.
In sunlight warm their hue enhanced,
My roots grew down, tough, grittier.

Now, time comes to identify;
I've overrun with greed,
Smothered flowers, a rowdy guy.
I admit, "Ha! I'm a weed."

So, I now shudder at the hoe,
Brashness gone, I am exposed.
With your efforts, I'll let go,
Give way to bean and rose.

Children's Renewing spirit

If ever laughter and fun can be found,
Unsullied by cunning and spite,
It's grandchildren when high spirits abound,
And the age gap fades out of sight.

The humor, slapstick and full of bright whims,
The songs, new and ones you have known,
Their presence so precious, hold on lest it dims,
As the time of their childhood has flown

From uncertainties, doubts, cares of the day,
Thoughts banished of harshness and lies,
On young voices, I'm transported away;
On a sweet hymn as they harmonize.

A Misfit's Peculiar Treasure

A misfit, it's said, although kindly meant,
Our talent, our ways or our face,
The efforts extended meeting dissent,
A weed's just a plant out of place.

Although winsome, fragrant, well grown,
Its purpose is not welcome there.
With this disfavor, one may be known,
Yet, filling a deep need somewhere.

Take heart, although our meter be rare,
There's a place suited just for that beat.
Our place may be revealed unaware,
By situation or people we meet.

Remember, herbs don't fit in a lawn,
And grass in our vegetables banned,
From the herb helpful remedies drawn,
So, our unique gifts may be grand.

Finding our cadence, where we do well,
Our passing finds not a glitch,
A different account our stories tell;
when we have discovered our niche.

Self Image's Peril

Our faults can't be the very worst;
It's harmful just to say it.
Although it may our bubble burst,
Let's not overplay it.

The positives are plainly there,
If we don't disguise them.
So don't reduce to disrepair,
By choosing to despise them.

Although you may evaluate
What others' thoughts reflect
Reading minds will not facilitate
To lift your self respect.

If you think you may peer forth
Each tragedy foreseeing,
It will not increase your worth,
Contrary, life debris-ing.

Again to say, 'The very worst'
Describes my life-not fair.
Almost inviting to be cursed,
At least in disrepair.

The Real Card

They're lyrical, satirical,
Well-rounded, almost spherical,
The laughable lines that you pass along.
You're ingenious, convenious,
Right there with a routine for us.
Shall we laugh or cry, or just burst into song?

But, if you go, we'll miss you so,
Though near sarcastic as you know,
Your thoughts are taken kindly as bright wit.
I guess we'll have to say, just stay,
And share your sparkling repartee.
With you around, a fun idea's a hit.

Another Marvelous Fall Festival

She's the girl who lives down the street.
Sunday school teacher, grocery stork clerk,
Assertive and bouncy or quiet and sweet,
Today, princess, away from her work.

He's the businessman we all know;
She's a leader, loved and revered.
By their place in the procession we show
Their renown among us is cheered.

Among fall leaves, they pass down the streets,
Sidewalks packed to their limit with glee
As boys and girls vie for the treats
Tossed by clown or celebrity.

Chiffon and leather, flowers and glitz,
Distinguish the mobile display,
Shining brass bands, horses champ bits,
This year's candidates spreading their say.

The hard work preparing lends its reward,
To innovative and well-applied plans.
From contest for design of the medal,
To open-air mart for the artisans.

The suspense of hunt for medallion,
Treasure for the one who has spied.
But many find, when the day's over,
A memory treasure inside.

Genius at Work

You have proven it again, the aim of man,
The time-honored quote I paraphrase.
Through efforts focused, diligent, one can
Conquer daunting challenges, deserving praise.

That, taking a corner, seeing there a whole,
Search for the lacking part in what is there,
See potential in the mix, bent on the goal,
Use both work and breaks to solve and to repair.

With native ability and practice, won,
By searching and applying, achieving gains,
It can be seen borne out, all said and done,
Genius, indeed, plays out in infinite pains.

The Retreat's Sweet Recovery

It's winding down; we prepare to come together,
Sharing friendship, gifts received and, fears allayed.
Anticipation high for fall's crisp weather,
Spiritual renewing, past behind us laid.

Come all, who seek recovery from loss and pain
All of you who have a life restored to share.
Trade your sorrows for joy; pass on your gain,
And let His power bring the healing there.

Let's come together; those who went before us
Would cheer for us if only we could hear.
Remembering their example can implore us
To bring to others what they held so dear.

The rustling lakeside foliage captivates us;
The soft dusk on the lake breathes peace.
We begin to sense the freedom that awaits us,
Together, those who seek find sweet release.

What wonder when we know that God is in it,
Bringing His power to change where it is sought.
To be aware that every hour and minute
Gives opportunity to live the way He taught.

A Gift of Song

Plodding on wet gravel,
I walked a mile today.
Looked forward to our travel,
Fall held the hope of May.

A small song skipped lightly,
Perked my heart and mind,
Conveyed to me so brightly,
In a way clever and kind.

The day holds such promise;
To verve of life a boost,
Vitality poured on us,
'Til time for birds to roost.

How amazing to receive,
A lift for all day long.
Company from morn to eve,
A thoughtful gift of song.

Facing the Fall

All the people I hear say,
They love the cool that starts the day,
Just let winter come our way,
I've done that many years.

I love the sparkling of the frost,
For scarlet leaves, a modest cost,
And, if a bit of sunshine's lost,
It is no cause for tears.

As I see summer cycling down,
Long, darker evenings veil the town,
I don't dread record chill's renown;
It's Florida this year.

Differing a little with the rabbit

My list is not a rigid rule
To be kept slavishly,
But act as my own guide and school,
To find priority.

Those items drifting through my mind,
Are nebulous and scary,
And seeing them all in a mass,
Causes me to be quite wary.

Those tasks out there all in a pile,
Can seem to be sky high.
In black and white, I find their style
Less whelming to the eye.

Once some order is attained,
I see what to toss away,
So sanity may be maintained
As I go through my day.

Congratulations

These are words of warm congratulation;
Who can count the days and years and hours,
Bringing to this day the culmination,
Of perseverance? Drum rolls, applause and flowers!

Be flourished, unfurled along your way.
The product of His hand, your faithfulness,
Can be seen, before you on this day,
Brought forth to bring God glory, people bless.

So these are words of heartfelt admiration.
Congratulations!

The Search for Kind Humor

Cash sang of the clash at the turn of a joke;
That leads us to note that a laugh can be mean.
The stand that ensued, smell of black powder smoke,
Danger and mayhem, a most tragic scene.

The result of this observance is sure;
A joke that is cutting may lead to a fight.
An insult, innuendo, or even a slur,
And it may be too late to get our act right.

Let's search and research for humor that's kind;
Turns your mouth up while splitting your sides.
Even laugh at ourselves; nobody will mind,
Gunman laughing out loud as leaving he rides.

But you'll miss the excitement of black powder smoke,
And the stand in the street at the turn of a joke.

Sources of Proof

Dictionary
And thesaurus
When we differ,
Are here for us.

To explain and
To enlarge on,
Take a clear stand;
Words just charge on.

Though we search,
And dwell and ponder.
In the lurch,
With minds that wander.

There I have it,
Clear and lucid,
Testing my wit,
Just as you did.

Life's Daily Struggle

When one can't keep their head on track,
their heart is random too,
the tasks that go to start the day,
are hard to keep in view.

When two things aren't done in a row,
ever since I rose,
It isn't that life's going wild;
it's just the way it goes.

The Freedom of speech and silence

Feel free, my friend, to speak your mind;
Your take on things is great.
If it continues without break,
Discord will soon take place.

Although your thoughts are well received.
Speak freely short of riot.
However, when it's time for me
To speak, be freely quiet.

Fantasy to Reality

Hardly a sticky candy still around,
The pumpkin faces, shriveled, show their age.
In garbage now, costumes in storage found,
Gone, what held the rollicking center stage.

The angel, hobo, witch are now in class;
Eerie night's enchanted moonlight given way;
Tummy aches from indiscreet treats passed,
Giggling goblins forgotten in the day.

Although the darker side a bit aggrandized,
Imagination and drama have been expressed.
November follows close; note thankful eyes,
Warm jackets, former spooks now brightly dressed.

The bubbly children transformed now to students,
The turkeys hiding in apprehensive fear,
Avoid the executioner with prudence,
While families prepare for grateful cheer.

The birds have southward flown, the clocks turned back.
And music--rushing the season?--fills each store.
As we adjust, the year proceeds on track,.
We fly or hunker down for snow once more.

Cow Paths

Though we see the fault in cowpaths in our minds,
They are a route that anchors us a bit.
In leaving them, rerouting them, one finds,
It takes a while to move to what will fit.

Again, discovery, though bright with hope,
Brings forth the need to change the present path,
And for both the power and will look up,
For wisdom to abandon and to grasp.

Each day, a fresh span to begin anew,
Practice what we're directed to employ.
Though change is hard, and signs of it be few,
A guide is needed for result and joy.

The familiar, bound to action and to thought,
And, what is obstacle, what is of use?
Again, in prayer, the Father can be sought,
For better paths to hold to and to choose.

Discovery and Motivation

Discovery, to the eager mind,
Eyes that observe, spot opportunity,
And brightness in the salient details find,
In what exists, see opportunity.

How marvelous to see and to bring forth,
The useful, the aesthetic and sublime,
The motivation to bring honor, express worth
In love for Father, dear, supreme, divine.

The spark--no fire--that brightly lights,
To relate to such a thing, how lame.
And still, to request fire, however bright
exceeds comparing to another's flame.

A prayer of realistic magnitude
Can be responded to by a Holy will.
To aid and to support that which is good,
And He who knows can hold and lift and fill.

Reliving Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving memories--it struck a chord;
Dear, seasoned men and women began to share.
It accelerated with each thought and word:
Scenes from the precious past were clearly there.

Oh, how the pies that lined the sill enticed,
The sons and daughters, urged to welcome friends,
With laughing faces, talk, the day was spiced;
They recalled the warmth Thanksgiving day extends.

The cows, the many children's help with chores,
A railroad crew, delayed on down the line,
Then watching for Papa at windows and doors,
Would the doctor Dad, called late be there on time?

The brothers who gave piggy-backs, the shouts
Of laughter as they rollicked in the hay,
And cousins, now passed on: recall cheers and pouts,
And patience learned, to take turns, not just their way.

Papa's horses and the hand-sawn firewood;
The early snow caused bringing out the sleigh.
Ladies telling it, near clapping, saying, "Good!"
Great grandparents glorying in their earlier ways.

So, when I asked ,"What did you like the best,
About your get-together at the home?"
Grandma smiled and said, "I joined the rest,
And shared memories, way better than a poem."

Wisconsin Snow

The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh;
The hunter tracks deer in new snow.
Pine boughs show wonder of change on the way,
As the sun on their fluff casts a glow.

The hunter enjoys the best of both worlds,
As dawn on the new day unfolds,
The challenge of the hunt, a sunrise unfurled
Belief deer are concealed in its holds.

A few flakes at twilight, some were forewarned,
Of slippery roads to traverse;
To kids on whose sleds small thrills are born,
As Thanksgiving comes, "Could be worse."

To those far away from these fine, frosty climes,
The wonder is reluctantly missed,
When balmy evenings surround Christmas chimes,
Among palms, under mistletoe kissed.

So, good wishes to hunters, pursuing their prey.
May their table abound with fresh meat.
Whether in balmy climes, or crispy, white day,
Thanks to God, whose gifts make life so sweet.

The Bantering of Wits

You played off my observations;,
I countered your bright wit.
Then you found droll my sayings
Like a parody or skit.

The tempo of our interchange
Picked up as thoughts snowballed.
Through laughter and rebut its range,
With mutual spoof enthralled.

Another day, its usual pace,
Past levity we'd aired,
I find a smile tug at my face,
remembering humor shared.

With Jim in Florida

You can always have a happy day
when you live with Jim;
There always is a special way
to do things with him.

The sunny climes of the tropics
And the share of work that we do,
And all the beauty is good to see.
We can always see it through.

So keep on with our target of loving true,
the others along with ourself.
Every day you find the way
To live in joy and real good health.

So enjoy each day and then enjoy each evening too
and every morning that is oh, so bright and new.
The happy days we share
Are just fine there
with good old Jim.

Forgiveness

The heart had no desire to requite;
The pain there held not any tone of grudge.
When need for forgiveness came to light,
Resistance bubbled up, "How can they judge?"

The decision to forgive had been a fact;
The will to let it go was there for sure,
And, even choosing positive to act,
The object of the pain a thorn would stir.

He who can work both to "will" and "do"
When asked, could change the way I feel.
I can decide about forgiving you;
It's only God who has the power to heal.

And, so, the hurts that long had held the heart,
I chose to give the Father one by one.
Amazed, even the memories that were a part,
Were healed, restored the times of love and fun.

It's wonderful to know He cares and can,
Recover and restore what hearts have lost.
It's not easy to surrender to His plan;
The return makes it seem small to count the cost.

Handyman Hero

As David, in God's strength, dispatched
The lion and the bear,
Heroes in our homes, unmatched,
Bravely tackle home repair.

While we stand by, fighting our doubt,
Confidence in trepidation,
Can this man of other skills win out,
In appliance situation.

So, we cheer on the brave attempt,
Results be, lose or win,
He views this roadblock with contempt.
We ask, "Call repair man in?"

When the problem is at last dispatched,
Cheer the man who has prevailed.
Skill to fix, or wisdom to hire it patched,
The home handyman is hailed.

Among the blessings of the day,
As common snags assail,
God gives the strength and makes the way;
The home hero can prevail.

It's a dilemma

It's a dilemma, conundrum, it seems,
To wait while getting things done.
Put away expectations and labeling dreams,
Ready for each new day's sun.

How like a child, not ready to bear
All the weight the new day may hold,
Proactively moving, but ready to share;
If it comes, glimpse the moment of gold.

So, trusting that guidance will come through the day,
I step out as the new day's sun rises,
Doing, but ready for what comes my way,
So I will not spoil the surprises.

Our Brothers' Plight

Acknowledging the desert, cold and dry,
Aware of storms and anguish born the while,
I bask in myriad blessings, wondering why,
The season's warmth, the happy, welcome smile.

A tyrant holds our brothers on foreign soil,
Away from even a message of belief,
In hunger, deprivation, thankless toil,
I live in joy, while he finds no relief.

How can a heart lack gratitude today?
A way to bridge disparity so vast,
A drop--can we divert the current way,
That others fare, a bit of favor passed?

Then, let me count the love and many gifts,
And find the small donation I can share.
I'll hope, then, that my meager offering lifts,
A little bit of heavy hearts and care.

Evening Inventory

Checking accounts at the day's end,
Spot point to uphold or shortfall,
Kindness to stranger, loved one, or friend,
Can I look at the sum of it all?

I'll mention thanks for that which I see,
Is given or gladly attained,
See where I need to clear the debris,
Or hold on to the lesson where gained.

To count those whose needs I am aware,
And those, also, who bless my life,
Recall where God has caused me to fare,
Relieved from peril and strife.

Then, as my day's account is reviewed,
Let go, clear the slate, and move on.
Giving credit where credit is due,
Open a fresh page at the dawn.

Christmas 2011

Graced by the brilliant star shining above,
Our King came in a way never heard of,
With mooing of cow and cooing of dove,
The Father gave His best gift of love.
It was Christmas.

Little ones wait, as the fire grows cold,
For surprises the waited-for morning will hold,
Heads spinning with stories so wonderfully told,
Of the King of kings coming as it was foretold,
And it's Christmas

The snow and the pines and the feasting today,
Children with their new toys, happily play.
Is it in His love that we give in this way?
It's the merry and holy Lord's natal day.
Yes, it's Christmas.

Hearts turning to those who have less at this time,
Jubilant bells in streets and church steeples chime,
And spirits, if not always temperatures, climb.
Minds turn from the commonplace to sublime,
When it's Christmas.

Some greet the day where fierce gales are blowing,
Others 'neath palm trees with bright flowers growing,
Faces of loved ones, meeting, just glowing,
Hearts full of joy, the wondrous news knowing,
And it's Christmas.

Piercing

Piercing,
A shaft of sunbeam through the morning mists,
A idea in the midst of jumbled moil,
A clear direction in the swamp of lists,
An evidence of outcome of our toil.

Piercing,
The tuneful call of a single bird,
In the rustle of the reeds and ripple sounds,
The landmark, the clear defining word,
That clarifies, halts me, turns me around.

Piercing,
Word that separates the truth from errors,
That brings life's possibilities to light,
And, instead of condemnation shares
The power to make the wrong or chaos right.

Festivities Unending

It isn't over though festivities have ended;
The aura of light begs, "Hold on what we've gained."
The mystery of the gift of life extended,
The marvel of the lifting of our load, attained.

"How long," we ask ourselves, "should these lights stay lighted,
How long, the fragrant greens the mantle grace?"
How long, in a world of selfishness, benighted,
Can we generate the warmth and smiling face?

The streets still glitter, brightly, as the dark comes;
It will stay until the festive aspect lifts.
The rushing before candles and those dear drums,
Now changes to rushing to exchange the gifts.

But, hold on; it doesn't have to change with such abruptness;
The same hands that hung the lights,wrapped the surprise,
Can function in the daily round of busy-ness,
With generous spirit, kind attentive eyes.

It isn't over, though festivities have ended;
Through the year, the Gift of love survives.
Like Boxing Day in England, poor befriended,
The wondrous Gift goes on, lights other lives.

Cybernetic Ties

Tenuous thread that holds us in a bond,
Air waves available reach out when tapped;
To fleeting moments of convenience respond,
When mutual time and motivation are enwrapped.

The waiting for the ring impatiently
Can cause a train of thought monopolized,
Or a reaction, "Just who can that be?"
When concentration is supremely prized.

The day you held the squirming infant son,
Who'd think that the connection would decrease?
And time become so scarce as seasons run,
Love ties, hopefully, maintained at feasts.

And, so, let's take a second look at the device,
That allows for us a quick thought to convey,
Appreciate its value over any vice,
We see, due to modes of another day.

Hurray for words and images that pass,
Through atmosphere and each transmission aid,
Warmth to the individual and mass,
Keeping up connections we have made.

Welcome 2012

You've dawned, so what is new, Two Thousand Twelve,
Except a dusting of new snow to soften the stark scenes?
The news, some issues moved upon, some shelved,
The striving still goes on for lives of means.

And you've appeared, New Year, clear-eyed, as yet unstained,
To face the disarray the old has left behind;
Backed by resolves of those by consequences trained,
You purpose to bring betterment to land and mind.

As the exuberance of saying the farewell,
And, as the strains of "Old Times' Sake" have eased away,
It's time to say, "Oh, hail Two Thousand Twelve,"
And give her place to implement a better day.

And, well we know the clash, administration change,
Or the retention of the status quo.
You're a year among years where we rearrange,
And hope to influence how it should go.

So we look ahead, sometimes with hope for peace,
And, knowing tides, times of adversity
Assail us any year and never cease,
We look for leaders with ability to see.

Contemplating what your way may be,
Would you walk the worn-in paths again?
Or gather strength to realize what visionaries see,
And should you find and follow newer trails, what then?

It may have been a trumpet blast or mournful air,
That ushered out and ushered in the changed command,
But, as for you, as yet untarnished, hovering there,
I trust you to the steady strength of God's great hand.

I'm Glad You're You

I want to send you jubilant, exultant lines,
As when Barak and Deborah won the day;
A difference we've made, and troubled times
Will be better for our force and way.

I can only send you love and express care,
That my words can comfort the assaults within,
Insidious, undermining ease, but may my prayer
Sway forces that make each day a challenge to win.

And, as I stand back and view the fray,
I'm seeing battles won in heart and mind;
And, as the challenge persists from day to day,
Your path, signs of His impact, leaves behind.

You're sending me exultant, jubilating lines,
Communicated in your air and attitude,
The power infused into the person--you,
To actuate the desired and sought after--good.

Inspiration and Practice

Music of the spheres, and beyond, oh hark!
The music of the heavens is revealed with lift,
And the reverberation leaves its mark.
To produce it, leaves a longing, prompts the gift.

And fingers play, and lips vibrate with tones inspired;
What begins as arduous scales, sees light.
A kindled spark,realizing of the gift grows, fired,
By the spirit recognizing within a talent bright.

Move on, oh yes, move on, dear gift, and grow,
For the seed planted is intended to bear fruit.
Withhold no water, motivation , don't let go.
Care, nourish, and protect each tender shoot.

That humbled efforts, nurtured by the spirit,
May produce something of the glory that is sought,
And we, receiving, striving for it, hear it
Earth's efforts echoing Heaven's sound and thought.

The Garbage disposer

In the wee small hours of the morning
Came a problem with most urgent force,
A puddle on the walk gave them warning,
But they couldn't determine the source.

In hindsight the clues were numerous,
A crunching sound that didn't last;
Relief that was brief but humorous,
What may have dropped in must have passed.

The husband arising in darkness,
Thought to do his bit with home chores,
Finding to his dismay, unkind starkness;
The dishwasher had leaked on the floors.

Under sink space was evacuated;
The bags for recycle thriftily saved,
Were wet, sloppy, and saturated,
Box of detergent soaked and depraved.

The guilt his wife felt over dropping,
Something carelessly into the drain,
When the cause was seen, quickly stopping,
The crunch, disposer part under strain.

The husband was challenged in pain,
To bend that low, sought for a seat,
His efforts seemed all in vain;,
Collapse of the tote used indiscreet .

Now look, oh yes, look for an answer,
A shelf from the last project was found.
It didn't work out for the stereo;
Possibilities seemed to abound.

The disposer then was analyzed,
By the steely clear eyes of a champ;
He found holes eroded, penny-sized,
Discovering what made things so damp.

It's to the web for information;
Will the cost be too great to defray?
A bit cheered, through determination,
Turned around if we're willing to pay.

Badger brand like land of desolation,
Which had been rudely taunted before,
Could turn around our grim consternation;
Wait for light and we'll go to the store.

The wife, though she felt unnecessary,
Stayed up with him until the pale dawn.
Her relief was satisfying, oh, very!
No repair to pay, she cheered him on.

Celebrate the Dream

It's sometimes called winter doldrums
When the holidays have passed
But, lest we get into ho hums
Think of glories we hold fast.

The New Year we scarcely welcome ring,
When the birthday esteemed arrives,
Great American, Martin Luther King
Who brought meaning to countless lives.

Whose dream we well remember,
Spoke of the longed-for reality,
And fanned the growing ember
Of integration's vitality.

Counters in stores like vibrant bowers
With bright red valentines
Balloons and candies, hearts and flowers
Declare love of many kinds.

And moving on--into cabin fever?
Oh No! Let's celebrate
Our number one liberty's believer,
First president, head of state.

Then the date we all revere,
The honest man and true
Who championed justice far and near,
Slaves freed and peace brought through.

Soon, balmy March winds blowing
Bring evidence its nearly over;
The doldrums gently going,
Snow flakes give way to clover.

So it' summer now that's come to stay.
Enthusiasm would abound;
Thrill of school vacation wears away
And dog days come around

A Book to Write in

He bought me books, discretely bound
To express the words that came.
I wrote on envelopes I found,
Forgot to sign my name.

I looked for little bit and scrap
Of things I wrote before,
Thoughts I could, again, unwrap,
My concealment I'd deplore.

Today, I'm writing in this spiral,
Enjoying how it's bound.
And, to avoid confusion viral,
Put it where it can be found.

So, when I want to edit,
Should corrections come to mind,
This little book gets credit
For the bit of work I find.

By Harmony We Live

Shake a new hand; get acquainted;
Treasure old friends that we know.
Be forthright; keep love untainted;
Let the Joy and laughter show.

Let's make time to share our fun side,
Time to show compassion too.
Get to know you, more than one side,
Cherish the old, welcome what's new.

People are the "must" ingredient,
For a life of take and give.
Some of each, worthwhile, expedient,
If, in harmony we'd live.

Bubble over, relate gently,
Savor varied modes and styles.
Let love flow, and, consequently,
Sow and reap a crop of smiles.

Good morning, God, Good morning friends
A good, Good morning to me too.
I can hope, before the day ends,
To share with friends, both old and new.

Valentines Show many Loves

How many kinds of love are sent in valentines?
The sparkling eyes, warm hearts, as they receive,
Acknowledging friendship or entreating, "Please be mine."

A shy boy or laughing girl joins in the line,
Slips a card in the decorated box. Will they retrieve?
How many kinds of love are sent in valentines?

Expressions meant to win a heart, we still design.
Would you get tangled in the spell they weave?
Acknowledging friendship or entreating, "Please be mine."

God-given love, my chosen one, is thine,
And, guided to you, divinely, I believe.
How many kinds of love are sent in valentines?

Dear grandchild or dear child presents a valentine;
We dignified adults with foolish joy perceive,
Acknowledging parenthood and, "Glad you're mine."

As light and bright as flowers, heady as the wine,
The memories and presence of love, we retrieve.
How many kinds of love are sent in valentines?
Acknowledging God-given love and friendship, mine.

Laughters Healing Balm

She had new ideas, insights galore;
Her counterpart just listened and laughed.
"Why,"she mused, "With all these truths in store,
Am I not heard? What's the craft?'

The giggles, when they were part of the fun,
Made some sense and added to pleasure,
But, when the merriment was all done,
What was left there to treasure?

There was a truth; it was quite hard to grasp.
When laughter is a reaction,
The one who caused it can claim and clasp,
And finds giggles a special attraction.

And, so it is, that she was amazed;
Whether they be friends, sisters, or brothers,
This little way can brighten the day:
Focus on the wit of the others.

There is a reward to this bright attitude;
It's not like when you're being heard,
But others finding with glad certitude,
Someone expressed joy at their word.

Orange Dish Variety

I think I'll make the orange dish again,
Although I think I've made it twice this week.
And you deserve variety but then'

It's wholesome, and with just a bit of pain,
It will suffice; the flavor we can tweak.
I think I'll make the orange dish again.

The entree will make you forget how plain,
The little dish of orange, and we'll speak,
Of how you deserve variety, but then,

Consistence is a feature we commend,
The sameness of the side dish, we won't speak;
I think I'll make the orange dish again.

With oatmeal and shirred eggs, I do maintain,
Bananas, oranges, a kiwi break,
For you deserve variety, but then,

You'll find that you have not spoiled me in vain,
Bringing coffee with nice cream, and cake.
See, you deserve variety, but then,
I'll smile while I serve the orange dish again.

Prayer finds Meaning

I'm not exactly on my knees today,
But, in my heart, I'm bowing down to You.
I ask for clarity to see my way,
And to persevere to see it through.

It's strange to see the way I need Your power
To do what common sense would clearly show,
But how attention to Your will each hour,
Changes the light on what I think I know.

I'm led to see my attitude of praise,
For who You are, and trust what You would do,
Can give direction, meaning to my days,
How what is done for others is for You.

So, as You prompt in ordering my day,
Bring to mind where attention I should give,
I'll know a little better how to pray,
And trust You, guiding me today, to live.

The Same Sky

Face the day, and there you'll find the beauty,
Pale coral and golden hue expands,
Look to the opportunity and duty.
Attitude spells privilege or demands;
This same sky both awe and peace commands.

Welcome the evening, glittering stars
Draw us into night aura's sweet intent,
Lead to nostalgia, absent one regard,
Reflecting on the rapture, memory-sent.
This same sky with feelings wistful or content

The ominous cumulonimbus bids adieu,
To the day where pall and sultry air prevail,
And to this sky a strange design and hue,
Indicates a rowdy night, rain, maybe hail,
This same sky slashed by lightning, thunder, gale.

Northern lights play over wintry reaches,
The silver moon reflects on seas of midnight blue,
And lends its gentle light to island beaches.
It's sunlit, moonlit, yes, the whole world through;
A canopy, this same sky over me and you.

Evening Flight

Above the clouds at sunset in a jet,
Solid-seeming cloudbank supplants the land.
Beneath lie clustered waves like froth,and yet,
Resemble wildly swirled snow or pleated fan.

The fiery pageant sweeps across the sky,
Just as though land, solid, lay below,
And the hills of clouds the glory underlie,
And slowly blend with stars and moon aglow.

And, suddenly, clouds part, a mountain valley
Shows twinkling lights, expands--a little town,
Appears like fantasy below, a subtle sally,
Visual fanfare, sweep, red-purple, trim dark ground.

Are they singing in the little town and dancing?
Are football fields alive with rousing cheer?
As we look down, believe for them a blessing,
Hovering as evening stars appear.

The engine's muffled roar, now an announcement,
The flight attendant offers snacks and drinks.
A little box of food, if splurge you want,
Or, you tip back your seat for forty winks..

Now, rubbing sleepy haze from wakened eyes,
Anticipation comes of someone dear,
Awaiting your return on" friendly skies,"
Or your assertive, "grab my car; and out of here."

Each step, the planning, packing, make connections,
Culminates in purpose for the flight,
Accomplished, friendships renewed, kind recollections,
The "friendly skies" bring some things good to light

The Creator of all the beauty that was seen,
The hearts warmed by the purpose of the flight.
In gratitude for safety, home again:
Thank God, how home and loved ones make things right.

Botanical Choreographers

Choreographers who compose in soil and stone
Plan the best from nature's elements,
To maximize the infant and full-blown,
Flora, water, mosaic, please each sense.

Protective hat, with shovel and with cart,
They map, they grade, they plant, nurture, and groom,
Results that charm the eye and touch the heart,
Like architecture, plans and work, their womb.

The branches grafted,deftly trimmed, and pruned,
The borders planted, adding bright array,
The hands that work the fertile soil are tuned
To a vision achieved a given day.

Their efforts nature's elements enhance;
They choreograph the blend of rocks and trees.
The grass and flowers glow and fairly dance,
Awe tourists, citizens, and families.

They lure you down a fetching, well-planned path,
Where fountains in pools bubble high and proud,
And water lilies share their tranquil bath,
With reflections of the palm frond and the cloud.

Bridges arch over cattail, grass, and reed,
Blue flag or orchid placed to catch the eyes;
Multiflorals serve butterflies to feed;
Nearby, bloom floral birds of paradise.

Like white spaces on a composition,
Breaks in the foliage attention call
To take-your-breath away transition,
A vista, your eyes once more to enthrall.

Skillfully, they've arranged the stimuli,
Focused on the Creators lovely work,
Alluring to receptive ear and eye,
Minute and fetching, or grand as a church.

Oh, do not miss the pirouette of palms,
The bananas' lush and fruitful symmetry,
Expressing abundance, heart-touching as Brahms,
"Choreographers with trowels" bless you and me.

Music Nature's Song

The music goes round and and yet around;
It grows within in your mind and in your heart.
Your feet tap to the pulsing of the sound;
Your fingers yearn to join and take their part.

When music lessons were an offered thing,
But fear and self will held their ill-timed sway,
And all that was desired was to sing,
Plan and order were passed by and thrown away.

So music, like the issues of all life,
Has order, a discipline to learn and do.
The created one can only realize,
The skill, by applying, practice, growth to view

It's not too late to try and learn to touch,
The keys with order,discipline and plan'
And music that has been desired so much,
Can be produced, if simply, by my hand.

The beauty that dwells in the swaying trees,
Has seemed entirely free and lacking bonds,
But there is an order the observer sees,
Governing the growth and rest for trees and fronds.

It isn't just today, while strains the ear inspire,
But in learning repeat, faithful, what is shown.
Practicing, the forward steps, give way to fire,
Trees and flowers by nature's rules, are grown.

Memories of the Popcorn Ball

"The Popcorn Man Gave a Popcorn Ball,"
Singing arose in the little school.
Hands popped up another title to call,
Though to wait to the end was the rule.

"The popcorn dancers hopped and hopped,"
Bouncy children kicked up too.
"And danced until their heads all popped."
Hands clapped, sorry when it was through.

Now, popcorn dances in our microwave;
Evening time spent with a DVD,
Both our car gas and the time to save,
The night is spent quite cozily.

Recollections, in those school days born,
Gray heads bob merrily once again,
Hearts as light as the popping corn,
Reliving special moments back then.

The laughing faces and voices dear,
Sometimes rowdy sometimes so sweet.
Sweet--and sour--notes revisit the ear,
Like the imagined " Ball"'s dancing feet.

Holiday programs, plays on a stage,
Ruffians from the playgrounds filled roles,
And memory, not faded with age,
Of performances that tickled, touched souls.

Popcorn's aroma wafts through the air,
Though absent are many dear friends,
But myriad bouncing, live youth are there,
Reminding us, life's ball never ends.

Soul's Divine Encounter

"Come boldly to the throne." We've read the words,
Astounded that Father God would bid like that to pray.
"The throne," Imagination takes what we have heard,
And supposes it is for a future day.

And, still I seek, remembering the words I've read;
Memory brings scenes I have not taken part;
Can this God, Whose bits of truth invade my head,
Bring courage and the means for me to reach His heart?

I tremble with anticipation and with awe,
As I ask to see yet more of His domain,
And go myself to see what apostles saw.
Oh, purify, let me glimpse Your glory once again.

"Come boldly," What an invitation, scarcely able, I,
To lift my eyes to see the trace of heavenly light,
The aura, hint of what beings fill the sky,
And hues transcending those familiar to sight.

And I creep forth, so conscious of my impurity,
As though a grubby herdsman, unprepared,
Unwashed and inferior before His shining company,
To set foot in the castle, presumptuously, has dared.

"Enough! "I cry." Enough!" stunned by the glimpse of glory.
Again, I meet the work-a-day, transformed;
In the cold light, will I relate the story?
I will walk anew, soul, by divine encounter stormed.

Lighten the Luggage

When your mouth is like an old valise,
Your eyes dull, sad, and glassy,
To give your face welcome release,
Your smile and step grow classy,

Just see a friend, all satchel-mouthed;
Think how to boost his courage;
Although his fortune seems gone south,
His state you won't disparage.

If you acknowledge hard times come,
But, when shared with a friend,
Two heads and hearts can make things hum,
Bring "old luggage" to an end.

Celestial Rejoicing

Is it the sound of storm? Oh no!
It's majestic music that I hear.
Faintly, then crescendo seems to overflow,
A harmony so vast as I draw near.

And every tone of instrument and voice,
Expresses triumph, gloriously hails the new.
In the angels' presence, all rejoice,
What death and rising of the Lord made true.

That one, just one, came when the Father called;
The ransom paid, a new person has come forth.
And, angels in reverence enthralled,
Join the chorus, proclaiming wondrous worth.

The light of rainbow hues shines brightly out;
Myriads of angels, saints, sing out their praise,
While harmony beyond belief, loud as a shout,
Thrills the ears and hearts as voices raise.

From the gloom of night and heavy heart,
Sorrow, guilt, and shame all burdening down,
The light celestial seeking to impart,
Heaven's healing glory to the earth's sad frown.

That morning, the open grave, the ransom paid,
Made this rejoicing time available that each
One of us, whose sins, in surrender laid,
May have the joy Easter brings within our reach.

Now, Hallelujahs ring too, here on earth;
Flowers and joyous music greet the day.
Children celebrate as children do, with mirth,
and,"Happy Easter," tells," He made the way."

Rejected Nourishment

I don't want to cultivate bias,
Nor others' attitudes psyche.
The tales that are told are not pious
Of cereal that no one could like.

It may have been purchased by Mother,
Who found it was cheaper by far.
She set it out before the other,
That was pricey, as tasty things are.

She continued to set it out after,
The preferred ones had dwindled to naught
Although met by such scornful laughter,
She hoped they would eat what she bought.

While the new cereal snapped, popped and crackled,
The cereal that everyone spurned,
Only sat there while rude laughter cackled,
Even less-liked than oatmeal near- burned.

The days passed in rapid succession;
Back and forth from the table to shelf.
The disliked cereal prompted concession;
Mother said, "Then, I'll eat it myself."

When shopping, she now is much wiser;
Should her thrift trump, she's down with three strikes.

If she buys it, she'll eat like a miser,
The cereal that nobody likes.

Blessings to our Pastor

Your word, oh Lord, and kind intent
Brings sunshine to our day,
Spoken through the lips you've sent,
To guide us on our way.

So bless the lips and actions too,
That bring to others cheer,
And. through Your words a clearer view,
Of Your will for us here.

Well-intentioned Division

They seemed to step on flowers
With every step they took,
And vied about the hours,
The mood, the sound, the look.

With hearts of best intentions,
And love that budded well,
Despite hope, fond inventions,
A glimpse slipped in, of hell.

And each crushed flower grew callous,
More wary to receive,
Attempts to make a palace,
Good motives to believe.

Now lonely ways are followed,
Where flowers are not harmed,
Nor grow, nor sweetness swallowed,
Lack hopes, hearts would have warmed..

May sun shine on the pathways
Good people tread alone,
And bless the still-to come days,
Healing and joy to own.

Work Styles

Some,with vigor their forte
Click off each passing hour.
Others flow into the day,
Their calm approach their power.

Though, languidly, some face the task,
Its import not give heed to,
Oblivious to what is asked,
But focus if they need to.

The world's work is done by bits,
Proactive, or under pressure.
Nighttime candles may be lit,
Their reward, a bit of leisure.

For him or her, it is the best,
To do the work exciting,
Suited to their interest,
Involving and delighting.

Parents and the schools: Prepare,
A method to apply it.
Homemaking and commerce share
Blessings generated by it.

God-given gifts with way equipped,
Give life wholesome direction.
Accept, enjoy each; none outstripped;
Apply our gifts, and bring connection.

So go for it; work in our style
At tasks that lie before us.
Accomplishment can bring a smile,
Rewards' assuring chorus.

Appreciation and wonderment

Oh, appreciation and wonder we shared,
Thrilled with feelings exquisite to know,
Sensed in the beauty that danger was dared,
To lore, we listened, of long ago.

Scenes both horrific and graced by deep love,
Consummated only by woe,
Blended with angelic scenes from above;
We read more poems of long ago.

Not the sorrow, but beauty we'd emulate,
Though in life, they concurrent flow.
As the language expressing, we'd formulate
Lines with imagery; passion would flow.

The sonorous, onerous pervades the thought;
Senses hark back to scenes we could know.
Enriching our language, aura is caught,
Images of times long ago.

The writings of yore, we love to explore;
To us motivation impart.
They open a door, though they are no more.
Their colorful words move our hearts.

The Train of Thought

I find myself sitting here with a book,
For what into my head once just popped,
For word and for phrase, I page , and I look,
And wonder why has the train stopped.

Oh, train of thought, upon your apt track,
Move on, ever forward the pen.
Bring facile words and fit phrases back;
Rumble on through my mind once again.

It's the silly fear and dread, numbing thought,
That impersonates will to refuse,
To prod with the should and the must and the ought,
Drive away the ingenious muse.

The Memory Theme of Life

The details, forthcoming?
No. Lacking or nil;
With what can my drumming
Memory theme fill?

The rhythm of living,
Our history combined
What melody given
Will fill in the lines?

I'll go to the elders
Who still know the theme,
Harmony welders,
Give flesh to the dream,

We'll plumb the deep things,
Those melding the chord,
The voice of love sings,
Whether knowing the word.

Details of beginnings,
Of yours and of mine ,
If memory dimming,
Allows for design.

We'll share of the morning,
Three days down the road,
When life's bright adorning,
Brought you all pink-bowed.

They'll tell; and we'll share it;
The song never ends,
A verse play and air it
Of cousins and friends.

April's Rising Crescendo

Ice fishing houses off the lake,
Fishing takes another form,
In yards again we mow and rake;
April's rain supplants snow storm.

Pussy willows grace marshy banks;
The poplars bear catkins too,
We'd like a nice warm spring, so thanks,
For sun's higher angle view.

The marching band reverberates,
Doing maneuvers on the street.
Summer's galas anticipates,
New events and memories sweet.

Returning birds investigate,
Homes set up to greet them,.
God-given sense to find a mate,
Our part, a nest-place treat them.

And, oh, so welcome, frogs join in,
Their bass and treble calls.
The loon or mallard once again,
Spring-hungry ears enthralls.

Tulips and snowdrops show their face,
Enhancing homes, city or farm,
The bloodroot's stain, plum blossom's lace,
All part of April's charm.

The Bold Panorama

Toss, misty mare's mane, catch the flame,
Of sunset's grandeur on the bay.
Oh, yes, anticipated once again.
Bold panorama, end the day.

Promising skies today the eyes enthrall;
Little blue gray puffs tiptoe the line.
Frame the lowering , sun's fire ball;
Sillhouetting sweethearts in its decline.

But, tossing waves,. charge on the beach,
On sinuous lines, catch the advancing flame ,
Before, on firm, white sand your power unleash,
Settle back, white foam, the traces that you came.

Bold sun, your deliberate descent,
Stoop to kiss the brow of tossing sea,
Like rivers of coals, flow, its extent,
Its foam a fanfare for the eve to be.

We watch you drop, accelerated fall,
Like a hot air balloon your design,
Touching the sea and slipping, half a ball,
Then but a glint on sea's horizon line.

We begin to turn away from the shore,
Stopped by a scene of glory yet to view,
Color rising, expanding, richer than before,
Then warm colors begin submission to the blue.

And one bright star tells us of night.
Would we wait and hope to see moon's rise?
The sweethearts walk unmindful of our sight.
Sunset, thank God, this gift of scenes and eyes.

Call It a Day

Slow down, sweet night; patiently wait,
Although your soon coming is desired,
For young folks, perhaps a special date,
Time of rest for those who are bone tired.

But when you come, "Call it a day,"
The unfinished, raveling threads
Hang there in accusing disarray,
Until plan with its completion weds.

Though eager foot awaiting skips,
Or sighs of weariness are breathed,
Should spontaneity the work eclipse,
End, sadly, with no good achieved.

So number we our days and hours,
So when the whistle blows or clock says," Done,"
Time for both work and smelling flowers,
And rest are ours with the setting sun.

Prayer Closet

It may be just a corner where the crowd
Has turned, and one's own thoughts be entertained,
Or in the lush, green forest, tall and proud,
Whose shade shelters words to God unfeigned.

It may be in the impressive music hall,
Where strains of great composers fill the air;
In a single passage, caught out of it all,
A heart is touched; the voice of God is there.

It may be on the playground, filled with shouts,
As children pour out energy galore.
An idea, with power to bloom, there sprouts,
A ready spirit tucks it in its store.

It may be faltering words that we must say,
To clarify a friendship we hold dear.
When lifted up, in love, to face the day,
We find in the encounter, God is near.

In corner, quiet room, or church's service shared,
Reaching for His presence, we may find,
The heart seizes on the gist of message aired;
His little chapel sets up quarters in our mind.

It may be, because our bent, our Maker knows,
Our prayer closet, where He can our lives enrich,
That on a given word or action our grasps close,
And, in places so diverse, we find our niche.

Happy Mothers day

Many a mother, the first time this year,
Will receive with smiles and moist young eyes,
A gift or a card made by hands she holds dear,
A precious and heart warming prize.

And many a daughter, far miles away,
Will wrap and send a nice gift in the mail,
And sons may forego their fishing that day,
And visit their mom without fail.

And some sons and daughters whose moms have gone home,
Reminisce with a smile and a tear.
And share love between them, remembering some,
Of times from the past they hold dear.

Many a husband shows special favor,
To the mother of his young flock,
Some burn the breakfast, with special flavor,
A gesture of love you can't knock.

Many a grandma glows over the brood,
That have blessed her life and still do.
And many people bring cheer and bring good,
Happy Mothers Day, dear ones, to you.

Line-Drying

Spring days, the sun, the lively breeze,
Bring spurts of energy;
The rustling of the new-clothed trees
Puts feet on memory.

In fall, before frost ravaged plants,
And cold winds chilled the spine,
We enjoyed the ambiance
Of sheets dried on the line.

The billowing, flapping dance performed,
Made homey ways seem fine.
What sweet and fragrant rest is warmed,
Mid sheets dried on the line.

Noticing wind wafts where it will,
Frees stuck spots in my mind,
And new spring plans join in the thrill,
With sheets dried on the line.

Your Student Driver

The time has arrived; it's expected.
Put misgivings and fear on the shelf.
From horrible portents protected.
You'll just have to risk it yourself.

Now, psych yourself up not to tremble,
And don't let it show how you feel.
Your wits about you assemble;
Be brave as your child takes the wheel.

Remember, don't grab for the dashboard,
Prompter of new skills protocol.
And keep your voice free of a fear word;
You'll pass on this part of control.

Remember, time with simulator,
Has given "almost" experience , my friend.
To grab your dear child, second nature,
Resist, or you'll pay in the end.

You, of course, graciously will relinquish,
Mastery of the car to this youth.
Your anxieties will extinguish
When this driver is found somewhat couth.

A few final kind words with a prayer,
Keep it subtle you think you're the boss.
Silently pray, " Lord , help us get there."
And don't make the sign of the cross.

Home Farm

The fields, the creek,
Steep valley descent,
Encircled young lives
And shaded each bent.
Hopes and grit furled,
Dreams quenched and lit,
A mile from the world,
More or less-just a bit.
Church in German, surprising first week.
And cow paths skirted the creek.

From the Spring day
That the caravan came,
Herded cows, miles away,
Rode truck only if lame.
Beside all the stock
Flew saved pheasants, raised.
The house bode hard work;
Creek's beauty was praised.
A stout dairy barn
Lifted hopes for success.
A small girl saw the charm,
Hopped around in her dress.
That evening, both smiles and tears on the cheek,
And cow paths skirted the creek

An enterprising farmer,
Brave wife, daughter, three sons,
On these rocky acres,
Some ground lost, more won.
Ingenuity launched
What brawn must bring forth.
Corn was grown, milk cows raised,
Made records, gained worth.
High on the hill,
Their gambrel-roofed lair,
Haughty, faded, and humble,
Awaiting repair.
A young family grew,
No slacking allowed.
Mom worked house and farm too,
Dad, with zeal was endowed.
Three little boys, hired hand,
Sometimes the crew made
Filling out the work force,
But sister just played.
Warm times came at dinner
Or supper with prayer,
Though ambitious aims
And fatigue, too, were there.
The church on the hill began each new week,
And cow paths skirted the creek.

In that Home Farm woods
And fields of work done
Came grief, shared caring,
and will to go on.
Boys and sister learned
To shoulder the task.
From Mama, they'd learned
How to do what was asked.
Through work, sports, and college,
Family persevered.
Young romance and marriage
Grandchildren appeared.
The now lonely man
Was given new life,
As a solitaire Dad
Got a cheery new wife.
Changes again easing the bleak.
And cow paths skirted the creek.

Grandchildren numerous,
Climbed in the mow,
Ran by the creek,
Ate grandma's good chow,
Helped in the fields
On stays at the farm
Put on quilts for the cold,
'Round the fire to get warm.
Again grief was faced;
The farmer went home.
Of Home Farm, its future,
What would become?
A school for young boys,
With a pastor as head?
Efforts fervently applied,
But change came instead.
Sons, teachers, botanist, pastor,
To Home Farm felt drawn,
But, now home with the Lord
To their final farm gone
The circle now seen
As Home Farm moves on,
The hands of new owners
Be blessed with each dawn,
Among the green hillsides, find what they seek,
Where rushes now skirt the creek.

Red, white, and blue bear meanings

Red, white, and blue bear meanings of many hues;
A lifting of the heart knowing the cost,
Security gained through those the risk would choose,
Freedom won through life or fortune lost.

A lifting of the heart, knowing the cost,
So, we in honor stand, hand on our heart,
Freedom won through life or fortune lost,
Salute, in awe, in a small way, taking part

So, we in honor stand, hand on our heart,
Security gained through those the risk would choose;
Salute, in awe, in a small way, taking part,
Red, white, and blue bear meanings of many hues.

Colors portraying ideals we would not lose,
Red, shed blood, white, purity of aims embossed,
Security gained through those the risk would choose,
Freedom won, though life or fortune lost.

Red of shed blood, white stars on blue field tossed,
Official building, street, or festival proclaim,
Announcing gain, and accepting what is lost,
Pledging loyalty to what we proudly claim.

With a marching beat and rousing strains, we name
With honor, those whose stand for her would choose,
The guidance of our Maker, we would claim.
Red, white, and blue bear meanings, many hues.

An Ode to a Toad

Here's an ode, O little toad,
Hops intermittent, slow, obese.
Dry, bumpy as a gravel road,
You nestle in the shade of trees.

You seem to stay aloof from streams
Yet, scrambling in the meadow plants,
From shallows where your egg mass gleams,
Tiny creatures nearly small as ants.

A dainty creature in spring's sun,
With bug or aphid eat the while,
And long before the summer is done,
Your plumpness incites me to smile.

Though insignificant you seem,
Your place in life earns high esteem,
Devouring insect that would eat,
My fragrant rose, erode my beet.

Happy Father's Day

Here's the day; it's come upon us,
And our own special Adonis,
Rates laurels we overlook all year.
The guy that bounced us, Mother warning,
Groaned when waking in the morning,
Now we want to let him know he's dear.

Sometimes it's life's muddied waters,
Preventing time with sons and daughters.
Today is here, and if they are around,
There's the mailbox, phone or car,
To bring us to where they are.
In being thought of, feelings warm are found.

Now that June is bursting forth,
We will focus on his worth,
Regard the best as we await the day.
If he is right here or missing,
Some laughter, also hugs, and kissing,
Recall--do now--can go a long, long way.

Guys of jokes and whiskering,
Affection now to you we sing,
Whatever life has brought or brings our way.
Here are warm and heartening wishes,
Sunday dinner so delicious.
May you enjoy a happy Father's day.

Fifty-seven Memory

Her name is Jane, and in fifty-seven,
we shared experience and a room,
looking back at a little bit of heaven,
the miracle of love and new life's bloom.

"I think that we have met before."
The years, the miles, life's loss or gain,
Unaware passed, living what was in store.
She said with wonder, "Can this have been?"

"The name seems, somehow, to touch a chord
and stir something in my recall.
Were you my partner in that little ward,
where our sweet bundles were brought down the hall?"

And our faces glowed over tiny beds
in that room, an island in the world,
where we cuddled them and kissed little heads;
those perfect fingers on ours curled.

And so you say, "Jane is my name.."
I'm glad you shared that memory,
thankful for the sons, now grown, that came
those special days that you spent with me.

Tucked in with Love

He tucked him in, the small son of his heart,
as often done with a soft kiss of love.
This time love hurt, but carefully, each part,
he tucked the little box, the soul gone above.

The soft, crumbly soil, so carefully placed,
the trust God brought them upholding,
And, faced together what must be faced,
The soil and God's care now enfolding.

Tenderly walking, the child in his mind,
the Lord's touch brought through from above,
in the anguish of grief, new life they could find,
painful steps lit by Father's love.

And love of the land, bright, agile thoughts,
Humor and interest served him well.
Although seeing glitches of life bringing naught,
solutions, he'd with wit and grit, tell.

Children by his side, wife steadfast and true,
he walked with sunny one passed before.
Father God took the disheartened and blue,
and broadened hearts and minds even more.

When the walk slowed, and anguish grew more,
he went to God's arms, the battle to win.
A small box near the son he tucked in before,
his children lovingly tucked him in.

Metamorphosis

One person's genes.
a unique code that can,
predict much of life
for a woman or man.

The foundation laid,
instruction consistent.
Still what I can be
tenuous, and distant.

Impeded by life's turns,
impelled by the innate,
to realize our potential
is not all up to fate.

The cornerstone set,
structure pliant to strain,
glowing--growing in sunshine,
Cold, pelted by rain.

A course that's laid true,
the blessings of health,
character growing
may outstrip great wealth

The code message hidden,
caterpillar's short span,
the brooding and waiting,
butterfly, as with man

True in life's tasks,
we use time and space
chrysallis, the mundane,
actualizing takes place.

And each has his message,
imprinted, concealed,
with the power of the Maker,
Astounding--revealed.

A long bit of patience,
much love we must feel,
the journey played out,
and, yes, we are real!

The path's set for you.
The Lord named you the one.
Work, forgiveness, and patience,
son or daughter, well done.

Fourth of July

Soft night has closed the curtain on the skies,
and older folks look forward to the rest.
For children and teens, seems to energize;
fun starts when the bold sun sets in the west.

Activity a change in form begins to take;
amorphous shapes upon the day are drawn,
for children on their weekend at the lake,
or hidden by the hedge in their back lawn.

While fingers of wispy mist thread through the damps,
street lights in town ignite, dispel the dark.
Dew jewels blink, reflecting firefly lamps,
and summer's magic blankets field and park.

What's that? It can't be gunfire in the night!
Or thunder; for the starry skies are clear.
Then snapping pop and muffled boom dismiss the fright,
observance begun before the day is here.

Observance of a sort, but what's to come
will make the sputtering previews seem a drop,
when giggling kids tried out their sought-for prize,
a sparkle, bang, a sizzle and a pop.

And now, the time has come to gather 'round.
We celebrate the founding of our land.
Air fills with the familiar triumph sound:
"Star Spangled Banner" plays, and for our flag we stand.

Excitement mounts as families find seating,
innovative meeting plans are carried out,
cell phones help, visibility fleeting,
The first aerial burst of light stirs up a shout.

Recalling bombs that burst air long ago,
with ambitious planning for the most
exuberant exposition we can show,
to our brave forefathers raise a visual toast.

How could we raise enough who faced the flames,
brave men who held the flag, ready to die,
or who risked all to boldly sign their names?
Their signature we emblazon on the sky.

Along the roadside foliage, mist reflects the light,
of cars returning, safe with families,
Enjoying the freedom won in fearsome fight,
while children say, "Just one more sparkler, please.

Juggling the Day

I want to get that done by then,
do this a little longer first.
I find I'm in a spot again,
what I aim to do the best, do worst.

The vision for results is fine;
the action that it takes falls short.
Too many ends in the day's twine,
all tangled, too far gone to sort.

Today is now another day,
a day to keep my act in line,
things one by one, an ordered way.
limit commitments, tasks decline.

First things first, the order be,
but being flexible is chief.
Aiming for serenity,
and not let chaos be the thief.

Family Visit

To focus among
precious distractions?
What heart song sung
will promote interactions?

Moments so fleeting,
may not be possessed;
necessary eating
puts connection next best.

Moms of the past years
and grandmas we cherish
seemed to tune in their ears,
not let kinship perish.

Tax our ingenuity;
prioritize our time;
family continuity,
the personal sublime.

If it takes junk food,
just let laundry slide;
their presence so good
let love's time preside.

From a Dream

How does one awaken from a dream,
consciousness becoming clearer and in tune?
dispel lingering threads of misty scenes,
enchantments vaguely spun by light of moon?

How to transition from dim nebulous forms,
that seemed more real than duties of the day?
They linger there to be unraveled, shorn,
of obscurity, lest they subtly slide away.

From the enchantment or the horrible plight,
arduous to elated mood they range,
traveling, gradually slipping from our sight,
the impressions effect their minor change.

Now reality becomes what we perceive
of the tangible now seen and heard.
Is waking just taking what we receive,
leaving inventions of image and of word?

Summer's Simulated Square

A do sa do of dandelions,
wind flowers form a line.
Violets demurely bow,
allemanding columbine.

Nature's music seems to sing;
grass gracefully sashays.
Breezes bid bluebells to ring,
and daisies dance for days.

It's sequence of the summertime,
in step and flouncy swirl.
Sweet clover swing with scent sublime,
and tiger lilies twirl..

Black-eyed-susans promenade for miles
where woodbine on fences mass.
The Lord of nature's cadence smiles;
as asters sedately pass.

Star through sunflowers; wave wild rose,
Snapdragons circulate.
Hinge hollyhock; then turning flows
into a chain of eight.

As nature, ordered and precise,
directed by the Master's call,
sequence of movement, eyes entice;
color completes it all.

Fan flowers flutter; China pink
chains across and makes a pair.
Posies pass through in a wink,
emulating a dance that's square.

County Fair Vacation

They'll stay around a week or two
and see grandchildren show
the could-be prized beef; get a blue?
See what they cook or sew.

While Mom and Dad check on the tack,
make sure safety is observed,
and check to see that funds don't lack,
for rides promised kids, steel-nerved.

Secretary's office humming,
with entries to be displayed,
fair buildings prepared for coming,
county's best, virtual parade.

Just smell the barbecue and brats;
hear hearty serving styles.
Welcome older folks to tots
with festive food and smiles.

Horses abound with walk, lope, trot,
of every hue and size,
from escorting to the parking lot
to performing for a prize.

The horse pull and the tractor pull,
demolition derby view.
See the grandest cow, outstanding bull,
"Fairest of Fair" crowning too.

The midway, buzzing, calls us
with its color, tempting sound.
Take the risk that enthralls us;
dream of nailing that prize this round.

The kiddie barn with lots of cute
animals, baby or petite,
chickens' flowing tails and feathered foot,
and lambs' endearing bleat.

Grandchildren will be glad you're there,
enjoy you, do you proud.
So, it's "heigh-ho, come to the fair,"
Enjoy it with the crowd.

Flying Bugs

I don't despise the dragon flies that zip around my hand,
for berries I peruse, both currant and goose.
Could I make jam that's grand?

A little fellow of black and yellow is quite another thing;
I hurry faster to pick the aster.
because I fear the sting.

I admire things like butterfly wings; their gracefulness I tout,
Among bright cherries, rich blackberries,
but a hornet freaks me out

Table of Contents

Filling Life's Empty Bucket
The Growth pains of Life
The Diminution of Summer's Song
The Tare's blightful Fate
Children's Renewing spirit
A Misfit's Peculiar Treasure
Self Image's Peril
The Real Card
Another Marvelous Fall Festival
Genius at Work
The Retreat's Sweet Recovery
A Gift of Song
Facing the Fall
Differing a little with the rabbit
Congratulations
The Search for Kind Humor
Sources of Proof
Life's Daily Struggle
The Freedom of speech and silence
Fantasy to Reality
Cow Paths
Discovery and Motivation
Reliving Thanksgiving
Wisconsin Snow
The Bantering of Wits
With Jim in Florida
Forgiveness
Handyman Hero
It's a dilemma
Our Brothers' Plight
Evening Inventory
Christmas 2011
Piercing
Festivities Unending
Cybernetic Ties
Welcome 2012
I'm Glad You're You
Inspiration and Practice
The Garbage disposer
Celebrate the Dream
A Book to Write in
By Harmony We Live
Valentines Show many Loves
Laughters Healing Balm
Orange Dish Variety
Prayer finds Meaning
The Same Sky
Evening Flight
Botanical Choreographers
Music Nature's Song
Memories of the Popcorn Ball
Soul's Divine Encounter
Lighten the Luggage
Celestial Rejoicing
Rejected Nourishment
Blessings to our Pastor
Well-intentioned Division
Work Styles
Appreciation and wonderment
The Train of Thought
The Memory Theme of Life
April's Rising Crescendo
The Bold Panorama
Call It a Day
Prayer Closet
Happy Mothers day
Line-Drying
Your Student Driver
Home Farm
Red, white, and blue bear meanings
An Ode to a Toad
Happy Father's Day
Fifty-seven Memory
Tucked in with Love
Metamorphosis
Fourth of July
Juggling the Day
Family Visit
From a Dream
Summer's Simulated Square
County Fair Vacation
Flying Bugs