Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
“Personally, I know little about God, whoever he is. If he is. I realize, however, that to some, he’s downright awesome. From Gram’s description, I picture him like a raptor with a sky’s wingspan, exhaling love’s oxygen on his hatchlings, feeding them comfort and truth and power straight from his beak.” -Sugar Birds, Cheryl Bostrom…
I swerved around a swallowtail today, its goldblackblue mosaic translated across the glass and gone. Street’s curbed outline caught the corner of my eye as the colorburst startled me to noticing, awakened me to a sight just past the neighbors. A sudden glimpse of canines at their master’s feet—heads anon, ears aperk—then they rose and…
To new followers here–Welcome! And for those faithful readers & friends–an update:Anyone who’s decided to write, edit or release a book in the last nine months of #lifeinthetimeofcorona might be considered misguided, but that’s exactly what I’ve been up to. My book of poetry–Hearts on Pilgrimage-Poems & Prayers–will, God willing, be released at the end of…
There is no statute of limitations on vision. My old eyes register a darting messenger ofGod’s blatant, creative joy. Watch the wingedcreation hover in a web of air.Spy a sleuthing intrudersnap-tapping its wayacross the wood, tunnelingaway and down the outside stairs. No expiration (yet) for hearing,cataloguing birdvoice and thechipclacking of breakfastat the feeder, the squeakinginsistence…
Autumn morning, my eyes are trainedthrough windows to the shadowshow on tree trunks, crayon box of colors falling through space from newly-revealed branches.Creator comes to mind, how Hecarries us, colors us, covers uswith His power, tree-like arms ourstrength, raising us Heavenward. Aware that sap is invisible, a pulsing, stickyriver, carrying nourishment in its wake while…
On the wind His words gently breezing through the pinwheel turning, iridescent blue blowing across the surface moving gently, forcing me to hear, “I’m here” while I ponder slowing– less turning, more still- like the quiet trees hushing, the soft branches suspended, punctuation placed securely on the pages of the sky, declaring a full stop….
“ I strain towards the future, eyes focused on the far away past empty, quiet gray, like looking for a hummingbird in the snow. I squint at fine twig lines as they slice across white over green in front of the dormant sienna. I spy her there, a gemstone stately in her royal stance among…
The chickadees are arguing using their mad voices to fight over the millet and sunflowers– Here’s a sweet ‘chirp’, there’s an insistent, “cuh, cuh, cuh” and another voice–“chick-a-dee, dee, dee.” It’s a Bird Boardroom Brawl, voices of different timbres and tempo arguing about what’s on the menu. They sound as if they’re starving, staking…
This shady place, shrouded in quiet and the shushing of trees… this cathedral of water-sounds borne on leaves. Here is worship– in the wind– bending carillon chimes blowing clouds, leaving blue. I hear birdsong as they raise their voices in praise. Echoing, answering– “Do you hear Him? Is He not wonderful, our Creator God?” I…
I’ve been looking at pine cones a lot lately. A book I’ve been reading makes me SEE things differently. Makes me stop and pay attention to what’s at my feet, down close. Instead of stepping over, around and on what lies below, I’m starting to take time to notice what I see. When I went for a walk yesterday,…