I love a full, silvery winter moon against an icy-cold, inky-blue, clear sky. Its radiance sparkling upon freshly falling snow makes me want to stop–urgently–to “watch the meadow fill” just like my old friend, Robert Frost… and to gaze upon the moonlight sparkle-play upon the “downy frost.” There is dancing when the nighttime skylight shines…
Tag: poem
Choices
Even the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow can’t buy contentment. It is illusive. Culture is abstract yet often dictates our lives in concrete measures. Choice is concrete yet seems abstract as we begin choosing how to live. The secrets of contentment, which transcend the content of our culture, is rooted in…
Language
Lofty thoughts, which become ideals and hopefully–actions like forgiveness, freedom, liberty, holiness, purity, redemption, atonement, justice, retribution, love, kindness, patience, or equality begin as seeds planted in the souls of mankind by the Spirit of God hovering upon the treasure of the universe. As we mature to grapple–chew and swallow these, they break through concrete barriers with rapid force and power like…
Shelter
She moves with stealth behind the scenes of autumn, steadily edging toward the razor cold and lacy veil of ice and crystal. Then quietly she falls, winter’s glorious mystique reveals in a day. In layers, it descends and deeper it penetrates, much more than surface. The chill and snow seeps below. But not to spurn. It’s the season of fireside reflections,…
Firsts
My grandson, Emmett, wiggled and wiggled as I tried to put on his pajamas. His silly mood made us both giggle and fall on the bed with laughter. Then suddenly, Emmett grew quiet and still for a moment, and his eyes gleamed and grew as big as planets. “Marmee, we saw Christmas lights tonight!” “Yes, we…
The Frayed Hem
Earth’s latitude and longitude run as high as humankind’s intelligence and as long and wide as our strength and life span. Here we live caged. We run the circled courses of these by the second—up and down and around—our machinations are profound. We are curing cancer and changing sexes, flying beyond the moon and putting steak sauce…
Beautiful Words
I’m tenderly moving the stones around the velvet-lined box of cedar. Some, I pick up to examine—peering into their deep and light shades of color. I’m looking for beauty, clarity, and roughed authenticity, scars—yet polished by time and conflict. The gems will string together to tell the story of what I see and don’t see,…
Bonnie Saul Wilks 