“The Gift”
Your steps quicken
As memories awaken
As you journey home
As you hurry, hurry home…
For you remember
A magical lighting of the face!
There is no sweeter place,
No finer grace
Than the gift
Glowing
From your child’s
Eyes.
All articles filed in December 2013
“The Garden Wizard”
“The Garden Wizard”
Stirs my garden elf…
from bud to violets-bold
Bromeliads now bloom
whom in my mother’s day,
they grow mid-air!
Now daisy’s gold
ooze up from dampened earth
grateful for the share!
A wondrous magic , soon
from natures mystic gloom.
I rescued bromeliads from a neighbor who moved and left the poor things behind, blistering in the heat; unloved. All they wanted was a little water which caused them to bloom profusely in appreciation.There is no warning they will bloom. No bud or stem. They suddenly ‘appear’, overnight, from deep in the dark recesses of the plant, like magic!
Wintry Haiku
Wintry HaikuOne, last, drop of ice
slips the fingertips of roof
falls to nothingness.
Frozen Tanka
One, last, hushed, droplet…
Surrenders its final breath,
Ice crystals melted…
Mutterings of winged things
Push pale winter into spring.
“A 1940’s Christmas”
“A 1940’s Christmas”
Green fir arms dressed in red crepe
circles; taped.
Thread the popcorn, nestled close.
Sprinkle limbs with silvered swirls:
icicles.
Christmas eve metamorphose.
circles; taped.
Thread the popcorn, nestled close.
Sprinkle limbs with silvered swirls:
icicles.
Christmas eve metamorphose.
(Few on this site were even BORN when I was decorating this tree 
)
)A Le Sizain Hétérométrique Poem. The poem consists of 6 lines only.
The rhyme scheme is aabccb. The syllable count is 7,3,7,7,3,7.
The rhyme scheme is aabccb. The syllable count is 7,3,7,7,3,7.
Santa is Lost!
“Santa is Lost!”His sleigh
with reindeer gone;
last seen on chimney-top!
Snow flurries fell and buried all;
red-jellied laugh of Santa
smothered in white
silence.
with reindeer gone;
last seen on chimney-top!
Snow flurries fell and buried all;
red-jellied laugh of Santa
smothered in white
silence.
The Angel in the Cobweb
There are so many amazing Yiddish words that found their way into the English language, and we thought it would be great to highlight one. To find one with a third definition, however, was not so easy. We thought all was lost until we stumbled upon this gem.tush – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.9NAHOSQf.dpuf
There are so many amazing Yiddish words that found their way into the English language, and we thought it would be great to highlight one. To find one with a third definition, however, was not so easy. We thought all was lost until we stumbled upon this gem.tush – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.9NAHOSQf.dpuf
original fabric figure by Jacqueline Casey
“The Angel in the Cobweb”
“Think you could move that tush of yours and do a little dusting?”
It is a quiet question. He will not fuss about my housekeeping and knows I am wrestling with grief. I avoid cleaning the room where Mom stayed on her last visit. John guides me there and we stand with our backs to the late afternoon sun as it beams through a northwest window. He is silent as I follow his gaze into the far corner and into the largest cobweb I have ever seen .
Inside the web stands a breathtaking angel figure about twelve inches tall. Stately, ornate, she fills the center of the web and reminds me of a fabric figure I made for mom on her last birthday. As I try to photograph the web, the late afternoon light bounces about and the angel does not translate into the image I expect to see.
My computer spits forth an intricate, muddy scene suggesting a spider’s web. I am disappointed. Still, both John and I have seen an angel in the web and I consider it a miracle. It is a gift from my mother. It is so like her to send that type of message.
My mother is an angel many ways:
an uncomplaining vigil does she keep.
From nursing home, she spent her latter days
yet longing to escape and visit me.
My life and work is in another place.
The separation makes our meetings tough.
She counts our visits when we do embrace
and cheerful is her face (she likes to bluff).
She once did visit me, her trip sublime.
She slept in what she called ‘my Princess bed’.
And said she hoped to visit other times
the room with lacy pillows on the spread.
And so she moves within my web of dreams.
Assures me love comes from another sphere
where hope and faith’s forgiveness does appear.
