Zenith

A life, well-striven, has risen, friend. A goal, well-tried, will find its end is higher than it's starting place. We may not finish up the race while in this mortal sphere. Yet climb while we are here.

The Path Made Clear

When I had once in darkness trod, I could not see the way of God. Which path to tread of those ahead, I did not know, but guessed instead. And following my my mortal thought I walked not often where I ought but where I deemed the best of ways, and thought that those were happy days. Thus in the misty paths I trod instead of walking with my God. In time I tired of dim lit views on darkened paths I'd blindly choose. I tired of only seeing night. I sought for peace, for warmth, for light. I turned to God and suddenly the path was clear for me to see. Christ is the way, the truth the light; his way is straight and good and right. His words an iron rod may be that take my feeble feet toward He that beckons us to Heaven fair. He marked the path that takes me there. I praise the holy Christmas birth that brought the Light of God to earth. I sing Hosanna to His name! I worship Christ the Lord who came to show the way and light the path and give us all the Father hath. How beautiful the guiding light! How blessed to be free from night.

LET IT SNOW!!!

Let the white settle from stormy winter skies. Let the wind blow flakes of snow that treat the tired eye. Let the blizzard linger as we from the window gaze at the wonder and the whiteness of a truly winter day.

indian summer

I still have parts of summer, like the sun in afternoon. My barefoot feet still find green grass, my eyes find skies of blue. I still have parts of summer, like the campfire's gloaming glow. Like s'mores and people gathering before the winter snow. I still have parts of summer, I still have parts of spring. And life is still a bit of all the past remembering. But I now see parts of winter, like branches without leaves. As the world revolves to winter, and we've gathered all our sheaves, the world is getting colder. As the evening hours draw nigh, somehow there is sadness as the summer bids good-bye.

marriage 101

so it turns out that the best predictor of a long-lasting happy marriage is how good of friends the bride and groom are. somehow that seems so simple it doesn't need said. but I did.

american daydream

School lunch.
Brown face, brown face, brown face,
white.
Brown face, white face, black face.

All smiling.
In English.

All eating hot dogs and chocolate milk.
Having recess.
Brown hand, white hand.
Little color blind friends
Holding hands.
On the playground.

All laughing.
In English.

When they go home,
Who hugs them?
And does it matter
What color of hands
Tuck them at night?

All sleeping.
In English.

Once

Once I was on time and the world forgot that we were meeting someplace, at this time. Once I finished first and no one followed. Once I cleaned the kitchen spotless and my friend said, "It doesn't stay clean, you just have to keep doing it over." Once I had a great idea, but I didn't write it down and I lost it. That's okay, it probably would have been a note like the one Mary Ellen Edmunds wrote to herself in the middle of the night because she had a fantastic thought and didn't want to forget it. In the morning she read the note, and it said, "How can you tell when a person is lying? ... Part of his soul leaks out his ears." Once she used the note for a visual aid at Women's Conference and I laughed. I'd like to be like her. Once.

quality

Because I want to. Because its more beautiful, more inspiring, more fulfilling. Because it feels good to sigh and say (mostly to yourself) "I did that and it turned out so well!" Because best efforts resonate with the divine. Because you can bring a friend to see it and tell your friend, "It feels like flying."

Everything In Its Place

I spied a solitary plastic penguin
Backstroking
Across the carpet.
It splashed
A smile on my face
From that place
Of unassuming cheerfulness.
And who could put a penguin in his pocket
Or in the toy box?
Who would hide delight
And say that it was just a penguin?

head room

Stress takes up a lot of room in a brain and it won't wait. It elbows and pushes and tries to get to the front of the line. Then it takes too long deciding which ice cream flavor. By the time stress is through you don't care if you had enough money for a double scoop, you just want to go home now, thank you very much.

wind

It's just the air moving, just something you can't even see. It brings the rain, sends the smog, and scatters pollen and seeds. Birds ride on it - so do hot air balloons. It holds heavy, heavy jets and little nothing leaves of red. And you can hear it in the night. Look at it, look. You can't see the wind. When someone asks you, "What's wrong?" and you say, "nothing," that's the wind. The wind that you can't even see.

Some*time

Take a day, a full twenty-four hours. It's yours. Will you give it wings and watch it fly away? Will you harness it and make it work? Will you listen to it run as the river runs to the sea, carrying life in little newspaper boats? Will you look at this day through a prism, coloring the world, dividing the light? When the evening shadows soften the edges, will you say good-night to this day? Or will you save it in your pocket - a 24-carat day, a gem, a treasure worth remembering?

The Wafting of Blessings

They came softly like long-needed rain into the hot dry night, warmly like the scent of freshly baked bread. My arms were outstretched and in they feathered like birds onto my open palms. I opened the windows of my soul and looked outward for relief and in the night they wafted, wafted, blessings wafted silently, silently into my yearning soul.

another summer

Another summer is almost over. Another school year about to begin. And the seasons go round and round and so do I. Would that I were a upward spiral rather than one eternal round of who I am. Would that children always laughed and swam and ran barefoot in the dew. Would that birds and crickets never lost their voice to snow. Would that gas was free and I would never run out of places to go in the summer.

... sigh...