On Friends

Writing today on the topic of “friendship”, a five minute writing prompt, hosted by thegypsymama.com. Rules: write for 5 minutes, no editing. GO I love to be myself, to be real, and it is freeing to be around people that like me as I am. There is nothing...

Unseen Hopes

…But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? — Romans 8:24 Hope is the expectation in something that is unseen. “Who hopes for what he has?” Our hopes often lie in what we do not have. Our hopes can fall into any...

Jewels of Autumn

this photo taken by my daughter *** Embracing one of the joys of season: a family tradition to go apple picking. This year, we’ll go twice. In a week or two, we’ll go back to pick apples to make into pies and applesauce. When the leaves turn (they’ve...

Poetry and Rust

Poetry and Rust scratching the edge of smooth corners expressions mix with breath reveal truth of human soul a language, understood— colors of life blend the heart exposed slips off page and I cry, laugh and muse with you, across ink-spotted pages in the spilling of...

What My Soul Needs

I take a walk along the path by the lake. The day before, on a boat on the same lake, I had seen a loon, and an eagle swoop down close to the waves, looking for fish. But today, I walk by the water, on a path carved out for those seeking a quiet walk. Soon I come upon...

Autumn Approaches and #409-431

The week has been a bit of a wild one, with ups and downs. A steady rain fell on Sunday which is typical of the change of seasons here. The remnants of summer memories, boat rides, swimming, etc., fade and give way to the coolness of another season. I smell autumn in...

Not Alone

He smiles through wrinkles, his pain hiding behind the smile. He says she’s in a nursing home now. And a tear slides down his cheek. He brushes the tear away. She doesn’t see. He pushes the wheelchair. They move slowly up the ramp he had built for her,...

In the Middle of Seasons and #382-408

I can smell autumn in the air, in the hefty breezes swaying the trees today. A flickering flutter of dry leaves on the roadway tell me that the season is indeed turning. Autumn has always been my favorite season, but then I grew up in the south, where the season...

In Memory of a Loss

A dark shadow consumes all in its wake It cannot give what it doesn’t have Nothing gives nothing blackness gives no light Hate, a wrangled tree with the fruit of violence, cannot give sweet fruit of kindness, grace A shadow drapes over the innocent and aware a nation...

in real life

in real life I’d be me and you’d be you We’d be who we were meant to be Charades gone, masks withdrawn We’d be honest enough, You and me In real life That’s just not the way it is though You see We hide behind Masks we’ve made and Ideas we’ve conjured And lies we’ve...