Category Archives: Blog Posts

Seasonal Rhythms
Autumn falls silent under the evening snow
Sheltered seeds don winter’s coat below
Spring buds pop their heads, winter snaps not yet
March winds howl for spring’s warmth
Worm Moon signals the nightcrawlers to rise
Daylight and darkness reach a duality
Equilux achieved, permafrost relents
Sleepy pods shed winter’s dark cloak
Pollinizers emit an earthy scent
Spring pollinators take flight
Sunrays titillate Terra’s loam
Touching life’s impetus

Winter’s Lace

Vibrant winter blooms 
cast against a snowy canvas,
beneath brooding skies

First snow, falling softly,                        
Amaryllis’ view from the window,
whisper-warm

A little ray of sunshine,
melancholy banishment 
Winter jasmine.

Persistence cold
dancing flurries
Pansies thrive.

Deep into winter
Primrose’s delightful colors,
stark against the snow

Varied highs and lows,
February vacillates,
Snowdrops appear.

Narcissus’ beauty
shines for all to see,
defying winter’s hold 

Colorful and sweet 
Pansies’ cousin, Viola, 
a winter survivor.

Glory-of-the-Snow,
star-shaped and whimsical, 
greets winter’s end. 

Nature’s Fury

a prelude
whirlybirds in the wind 
bliss ignorance

whispered chaos swirls
distance rumbles forewarn,
sirens fill the air

impending danger arrives
thunderous clouds clash,
wind whips, hook echo forms

wrapped by clouded storms,  
dark tornadoes,  
the March winds rumble

nature’s beauty shines
from the eyes of the beholder
beware of black bears

wintry winds whistling 
a graceful genuflection, 
mid-winter dance

the morning light hums
dreams prance in dawn's shadow,
the young at-heart dream

Death and Dementia

Fear and darkness abide side-by-side, hiding the old crone of despair.
Cohorts of hatred entrench themselves against the light.
Incoherent thoughts rattle the brain, searing the heart. 
Stirred agitation summons dementia.

Death grins from the abyss, as the human soul withers.
Yet, darkness recoils at the light. 
The old crone flees, abandoning despair. 
Defeated, Death returns to the abyss.

Light dispels darkness.
Love’s glow sparks hope. 
Life embraces the soul.

Winter folds a tree--
into a counterfeit death
gray, bony, lifeless.
Better than Starbucks, February 2022 Publication p. 41

Imagine

Sitting on the back porch swing, high in the Ozark Mountains, I feel the last remnants of the cool morning breeze wafting in. The deciduous trees that blanket the rolling hills vibrate with vibrant colors. White clouds hang in the pale blue sky, hinting at rain in their underbelly. 

Tree limbs sway gently in the wind, and leaves rustle momentarily before falling silent.  A red-headed woodpecker glides past, wings outstretched as it easily navigates the air currents. With slight turns among the branches, it soon disappears. 

Birds sing their early morning melodies, hidden from sight. From the clouds above, shaded areas dot the mountainside, providing a cool retreat from the day’s heat. As nature dances in the wind, life thrives in the warmth of the sunlight. 

Yet, amidst this bountiful backdrop of life stands a stark contrast: a giant dead stick, gray, bony, and lifeless. Its haggard branches extend outward, out of place, and exposed. This lifeless form yearns for the cloak of winter, embodying a facade of counterfeit sleep.

Winter’s Deep Sleep

winter's shield
hoarfrost, snow blanket
survive or succumb

silence broken
winter creaks
lost footfalls

relentless onslaught
freezing, thawing, footfalls
of a screed heart

[relentless onslaught
of a screed heart 
freezing, thawing, lost] 

safely tucked
under subnivean snow,
revealing rain

snow falling lightly

dreams prance
on silver moonbeams,
nestled deep, all sleep

Night Treasures

the night sky frolics
under silvery moonbeams
in stillness, dreams come

dancing in joyous leaps, 
dreams skate on imaginative trails,
hidden sky treasures

night recedes behind the stars
no thought to pending troubles,
tomorrow sleeps

wintry winds whistling 
a graceful genuflection, 
mid-winter dance

Winter Solstice

motionless sun
the darkest moment
light breaks through

climactic pause
night tide meets at Winter's gate
light concatenates

the sun stands still,
a brief magical moment
winter begins

Psithurism Wind

burnt, buff, earthy,
ushering in sienna hues,
autumn's display

a shimmering dance
a seasonal rain
blurred lines

tree whispers
back-porch sharing
changing seasons

leaf-whistles,
needles oscillate
in a psithurism wind

wintry winds whistling 
a graceful genuflection,
Autumn's last dance

Eventide falls 
on one mountain range 
as dawn rises on another.

Apposite

morning’s blush
slips through
the mizzling mist

The Troubadour's Song 

As Judas, in his willful rejection, walked daily beside Jesus, a contrasting hope was about to be born. Judas’ callous heart longed for an earthly king, which led to betrayal with a sealed traitorous kiss. 

Blind ignorance prevailed. The Pharisees denied their Messiah, and Jerusalem cried out, unable to see.

A despairing loss, overcome by fear, caused hope to flee. Peter denied Him. Overwhelming grief filled John. He could not contain his tears as his Messiah died. 
Dementia cried out. Darkness enveloped the cross as death’s grip shook the earth.

We, too, walk daily beside the true Messiah, unmoved by the truth and unable to see the light of hope.  

With a heightened sense of loss and impending danger, man’s despair descended to hell’s depths. Their dreams captured by death, nailed to an old wooden beam. A tragic story with an untold ending.  

Yet,

The morning light hummed with renewed hope. The eternal, wrapped in clay, set Terra free. 
The Troubadour sang, illuminating the darkness with the song of salvation. 

A dream no longer, the day wakes with understanding. His message rang true: a gift of grace freely given. 

The church’s song is the gospel story of God’s eternal plan. When the harvest is complete, marking the end of the church age, Israel will again have a hand in redeeming man.

IF 

A question, 
If rain no longer fell, would tears cease to flow? 
If blue dropped from the sky, would a smile return? 
If darkness engulfs the world, would light find its way? 
If longing is understood, would yearning fade? 
If sadness disappeared, would you be free? 

An Answer
Rev. 21:4 I will dry your eyes; I am the world's light. 
Isaiah 41:13 I will help you when cannot cope. God will carry you in His hand.
Ps 119:105 Your word will guide my feet and light my way. 
Eph 6:11 Armor up, God will stand by your side.
Ex 14:14 I will fight your fight. 
Deut. 31:6 I will hold you tight; you belong to Me
Ps 56:8 I have bottled all your tears. You are free. 

An Epic Event

Snow blanketed the landscape with deep, powdery white flakes. This was not the typical crusty flurries that barely make a snowman, but perfectly delicate snow so fluffy and light that it beckoned you to step out and play. Icicles hung in a row across the roof. The trepidation about a significant winter event melted away by a sense of wonder at the beauty of this rare snowfall. 

Birds swirled and swooped, forming a collective. A  round of robins landed in the backyard. An echo of mockingbirds congregate on the limbs of an old River Birch tree out front. A conclave of cardinals sat along the fence row, as a cloud of blackbirds landed in the trees behind the fence. 

 It was this sight that piqued my curiosity—birds gathering in unusual clusters. Yet, they seemed to be ignoring the scattered birdseed. Why? The ground was covered in snow and devoid of food. It was as unusual as a fifteen-inch snowfall for hungry birds not to eat. This was  fascinating to watch. Clueless as to why the birds waited, the answer came suddenly. 

A robin swooped in to catch a water droplet from an icicle in mid-flight. Adding to the intrigue, other birds joined in. 

With their usual water sources frozen, birds migrated in flocks, searching for water. As I filled water trays and scattered them around the yard, I saw a bigger picture of nature's workings. A simple solution to the problem was provided. Still, it was a rare moment to witness the shared struggle for survival in the face of adversity. The birds drank, ate, and then disappeared.

Though clueless, God was not. Seeing a bird catching a water droplet in mid-air was fantastic and incredible. But more importantly, it was my clue to see an epic event. Cold, still, frosty white

The glistening sun stirs,
icicle droplets drip
amid a frozen field.

Winter’s fountain
flowing freely, ready for
an acrobatic display;
cardinals drink mid-stream. 

Still, cold,
frozen white
ice glistens.

Smooth spikes
shimmering pendant
hang in a row.

Icicles melt,
winter's fountain
flows freely. 

sparrows sleep
night hums
dreams play