In the Trees

Source

I saw my chance and took it,
Right there in the trees,
A waiting gap was open so,
I pulled in and parked beneath,
The pretty blossoms in their prime,
This could be the only time,
To be sheathed up up in the trees.

To Think Where They Have Been

First, the colorful wings I spied,

Heard the soulful, birdful cry,

With one breath, my soul did rise,

Saw the nest, scanned the sky,

My people, my kin,

Nearest to my own skin,

To think where they have been,

Beautiful bird of mine, When

Will I see you again.

 

Shades of Evening

mildred anne butler

Shelter - My Prayer Tonight

You are the shelter
I need to be my covering
When I need to hide

Myself away from
Human trials and
Things that happen
Outside of my control.
Cover me
Hide me
Shelter me

Freedom

I've been quiet this winter, but I can assure you that inside my brain, there is a flurry of thoughts, much like the flocks of birds I keep seeing. One day I kept seeing wave after wave of flocks that were stretched out very long in a line, instead of together as a group. Like seven or eight different flocks coming one after the other. Makes me wonder what they know that I don't. Much like them I am longing for spring and joyful at the little things that remind it is spring, and inside my mind, I am full of freedom, as if I am up there in the open sky, flying as a bird-long ribbon that caught the wind and is loose in the sky.

 

Living in a Pastel World

Breaths come in cold, and go out pale and still. Frozen for a snap shop moment, then turning invisible. Looking up to the sky, her face is brushed with cold air as she breathes in and out, a pattern of white and pale repeats.

Living in a pastel world too long, she looks around with disdain. The roads have been icy just one too many times, the haze covers her view, hiding the natural beauty that surrounds her. Will this end soon enough for her before she goes stir-crazy?

Just then, she makes her way in the parking lot, suddenly turns, and is face to face with a quartet of winter birds, sitting in a circle feasting on birdseed that someone has dropped there for them. A winter miracle right before her eyes, no need to even look up. Beautiful. 

The crunch of the snow on the road is growing weary and old. But right nearby on the road, there is a little shed, colored a pale turquoise and covered in white frozen wonderland. Again it's beautiful.

Reminding her to love this time where she can. To get through it and appreciate the pretty little things that come only this time of year. She will try.

The Girl Noticing.

by Dianne Lacourcier, called Keeping a Diary.

Here it is January and today I saw a flock of summer birds flying in the sky. Reminds me of this painting, pale colors of winter, birds flocking, and the girl noticing. Could be me.

The Season

The light of the Season seems to be dimming as all of the hustle and bustle of getting Christmas-ready ends. The gifts we searched for so diligently have been handed out to their recipients, the last cup of Christmas eggnog has been drunk, and the Christmas songs are waning. Yet. There is still some seasonal light left, and I plan on embracing it, stretching it out for as long as I can. That's what makes it so special, that it only comes around once a year. The Season is a gift of memories and feelings that are magnified to over brimming. It truly is the "most wonderful time." I hope you can still feel it's embers as Christmas fades out to the new year.

winter-sunset-christina-meeusen

This Christmas Eve

It rained this Christmas Eve,
You know, 
There wasn't one stray flake of snow,
Falling ever softly down, 
On the cold pale winter ground,
But still, it is the very same,
There's just One Babe,
With Jesus' name,
And I'll remember all my days,
That Christmas Eve has paved the way,
For all mankind to truly know,
Their Savior, Lord, this day born. 

 

Moonwatching

I told the moon watcher, ...your moon is coming,
Heads up to see it rise through the clouds.
A moment later, I realized I was too late,
For it was already illuminating the dark sky,
...But the moon watcher was already watching.

That Time of Day

There's that time of day when it's not daytime or evening, just right on the edge of both. Some call it twilight. In the winter solstice season, (any season, really), that is a magical time of day. There is something about the light and warmth of it, that seems hopeful, calming, and familiar. I kind of like it. Hopefully, I can catch a few more of these magic minutes as winter carries on her way. In those moments, it's like time is standing still, and I like it.

My Little Prayer

Merry Little Christmas ~

Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holiday's. In fact, it might just be my very favorite holiday. It's the meal, the memories, being together and pushing back real life for just one day. It's a magical time, a time for being still, reflecting, talking with family, really talking, and maybe more importantly, for listening. It's the opening act of the holiday season. I'm so thankful for it all. Have a Happy One!

Andrew Wyeth

Poetry For the Eyes

A rose by any other name ...

Peonies.

Well, I don't exactly love their name, but I do love them.

Very rose-like, but beautiful on their own.

Poetry for the eyes.

Photo by Flirty Fleurs

We Were the Book

Beloved books,

A great room.

Content, joy.

A spot more dear than life.

We were the book.

(A found poem, gathered at 1 am)