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: writing poetry
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,…
A Second Book
This morning while picking up the house and getting ready for the day, it occurred to me with stunning, non-negotiable truth that this November I am turning 75! I did not wince at this serendipitous reminder. Pastor Olen Griffing, a very wise man, mentor, and friend told me once that it is only in your…
Yes
Yes, I’ll journey with you to Skull Hill in springtime, the hyacinths dripping of perfume and the lily blazing purity in the flooding sunshine of noonday. I’m frail and naked and ashamed— beaten and exposed to my bone’s marrow, but I will go with you. I’ll fall upon you in the river of crimson that…
Gleam
Millions of pinholes twinkle across a midnight sky, a bubbly mountain river shimmers in sunlight as it flows to the sea, sand glistens through the water at the ocean shore, bright eyes gleam from a distant playground, and a smoldering ember glows red hot to the end. A small thing it is not…to shine, to…
Blurred Words
Tonight I blurred my words and remembered you, fondly. Sometimes when you blur your words with a friend—it heals your soul, and you know you’re not alone. You are not alone. The vagueness of life demands analgesic, and sharing of vulnerabilities leaves the sweetest taste. In the braided arms of convivial moments and beloved friends…
Winter Sweep
The fire crackles hot, while I drink steaming mugs of tea on the run. I would like to pause to mark these moments laden with winter beauty, the icy limbs of barren branches, the silver silence of powder snowfall, the midnight, moonlight sparkle of downy flake, and the blinding sting of noonday. But my closets…
Canadian Geese
Suspended in mid-air between heaven and earth, they soar. No preparations—not for a nano second do they fret, stew, holdback, or shirk this 3,000-mile, seasonal passage. Oh, those black wings beating over and through the windy currents. Heads held high. Hearts pumping fortitude for the long haul, and eyes focused due south. Inner radar, as…
Bonnie Saul Wilks 