Posted in Poetry

Doug + Katie

My love, my life, my Valentine

I can hardly believe that you are mine.

Twenty years ago when I first saw you

could we have imagined our life come true?

Your humor, your jokes, I think I’ve heard them all

your joyous personality

and smile

your gentleness

always makes me fall

In love again.

Posted in Poetry

Permission to Let Go (a poem)

And then

All of a sudden

She found herself quite tired

So she sat down.

Why all the madness?

she thought to herself.

Do I do so much just to keep busy?

Do I do so much so I haven’t time to think?

What do I fear if I have time to think?

I might find peace.

Do I need to give myself permission to let it go?

Have I convinced myself that the only way is this way?

Is there more I have yet to discover because I keep looking back?

Keep walking back

Keep turning around and heading back

Do I keep looking ahead into the fog and muttering

what if?

There was nothing but time, of course

and a comfortable chair and a lovely steeping tea

a good book and a cat curled up on her lap.

There were pasts to leave behind and old memories and old habits and old

And there were futures and memories and friends and children and laughter

and everything that seemed so imperative just kind of drifted away

For she was quite tired, you see.

So she sat down to rest.  and the birds sang.  and the sun shone.  and life went on.

Posted in Poetry

Winter’s Song

I love springtime and the return of the birds.  The warm sun on my face, my hands in the soil.  I do love seed packets and promises of gardens galore.  I love tree blossoms and flowers and bees and more.

I love summer and all the fun to be had.  The gardens and watering.  Fresh peas off the vine and corn growing high.  I love the long days and al fresco meals.  I love the way the hot sun feels.

I love autumn and its flurry of work.  Harvesting, preserving, the fatigue that comes.  The colors, the holidays the promises of rest.  The smell of wood smoke and coffee and warm blankets ’round the fire.

In my hurry to get back to spring, I was stopped in my tracks.  I checked on the chickens all warm in their house.  Big flakes of snow were falling suddenly from the sky.  The smell was so fresh.  The coolness livened my skin after the warm house within.  Such quiet descended as the flurries went on.  Just birds in the trees trying to keep warm.  Chirping and singing, they had quite a time.  As the flurries of fluffy snow came tumbling down, resting on trees and the sleeping ground.

Winter songs are of rest and peace.  Of cleansing and warmth.  Of cold and restoration.  This time I treasure for its ability to calm.  I am enjoying my hibernation.  Ready to be out in the garden beds in no time.  But in the meantime, the house is warm, the coffee’s hot, the snow is falling, and all is still.  Winter whispers, “Take a breath.”

Posted in Poetry

December Morning Dawn

The lavender sky spreads and stretches over rolling pastures and forests of trees.

Along the railroad tracks the mist lightly rolls as dawn awakes

Golden sun rises and the air is ever cool in the December morning breeze

Deer move along the tracks with motions swift on crisp winter grass.

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Here at cozy home the dawn wakes me without clock as the lavender clouds drift by

Outside my window a new day begins of promise and light

No window coverings block my view of the large trees and the colored western sky

I mutter silent prayers of gratitude and breathe deeply.

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‘Tis too easy to get caught up in past affairs and travesties, harsh pain and mire

‘Tis too easy to become obsessed with what one still desires

But in this moment, my Dear ones out there, be the heart and smile that you would admire

Let not any negative word or thought escape to the world.

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Focus, Dears, on what is real and light and bright and sweet, upon blessings, and present here

See beauty in all things big and small, from children to birdsong,

Speak in tomes of love and forgiveness and inspire those that are near, for joy they hear

For your spirit’s light this Yule tide season can be very bright.

 

Posted in Poetry

The Autumn Golden Light

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The light filters golden beneath the woolen sky

Illuminating Autumn’s radiance through leaves of brilliance

Maddening shorter days and nights

I know winter is yet to come

Still, that filtered golden light glows

and magnifies the beauty of Fall

and I am hopelessly in love with it all

As the trees loosen their cloaks of crimson and gold

walking in fallen leaves enchants and delights

and fairies dancing in the golden light.20171103_092253

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Posted in Holidays, Poetry

It’s Halloween!

costume

I walked to the mailbox and found inside a letter.  It was from my dear friend, Pat, who sent us a Halloween greeting.  I love her poems and wanted to share it with you!

It’s Halloween

It’s Halloween!  It’s Halloween!

The moon is full and bright

and we shall see what can’t be seen

on any other night.

 

Skeletons and ghosts and ghouls

Grinning goblins fighting duels

Werewolves rising from their tombs

Witches on their magic brooms.

 

In masks and gowns

We haunt the streets

and knock on doors

for trick or treats.

 

Tonight we are

the King and Queen

for oh tonight

It’s Halloween!

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The Milk Maid

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Third Eye Blind

Tonight we will light a fire in the wood stove and add a few chairs for wandering souls.  Make a warm meal and pour a pumpkin beer.  We will fill a bowl with chocolates for the neighborhood ghouls.  And enjoy Halloween in our new home.

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Shimmer the Genie

Wishing you all a fun filled Halloween, a sweet Samhain, and a happy New Year.

Posted in Poetry

Whispers of Autumn

 

fallEven without a calendar

without a clock on the wall

I would know it’s Autumn

I can feel that it is Fall.

 

Perhaps the filter of the light

smoky golden rosy glow

I hear geese coming back

the birds surely know.

 

Slight coolness in its changing breath

such odd stillness in the air

Blue watercolor sky

Tree and moss finery fair.

 

And rich, bold oil painting colors

sweep the landscape with a brush

Wood smoke scents crystal nights

Oh, white winter do not rush.

 

Yes, I would know that it were Fall

sans note or clock or mirror

Lulling whispers in air

say autumn has settled here.

Posted in Holidays, Poetry

A New Year

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I feel the earth beneath my feet

breathing

Breathing through cracks in the pavement

breaking the asphalt like a too tight corset

pulsating life

A breathing mother

I stand upon her breast amongst the prairie grasses

and through her gentle rise and fall

I breathe in a new year full of promise and life.

Blessings to you all for a bright, beautiful 2017. Happy New Year.

 

Posted in Poetry

After the Rain

 

free-after-rain-wallpaper-1An early summer rain fell in nourishing streams all night.

Sweet smelling morning, the sunshine struggles to come on bright.

Listless sleeping clouds shift and moan in their heavy weight.

They’ll be moving out at their slow encompassing rate.

Birds are already singing their tunes of glory be,

as they flit around and praise summer from tree to tree.

Garden crops will come alive with water in their little feet,

and flowers tumble forward greeting each bumble bee they meet.

A hummingbird comes to my window buzzing in the air.

I do believe this summertime will be so ever fair.

(It has been a year since we learned that a rented farm would again be the end of our plans.  This time we would lose almost everything and would embark on quite a journey.  We made it through one of the hardest times in our lives and came out still together and happy, dreaming of our own farm this time, and embracing a summer of new memories.  Happy Summer, y’all, thanks for supporting us this last year and for following along!-Katie)

Posted in Poetry

The Great Novelist

Southern-belle-civil-war

My first attempts at writing fiction were as a pre-teen, huddled in my room with a spiral notebook and pen, scribbling away.  Two chapters of strained dialogue and always two girls in southern belle dresses and absolutely no plot, I would grow bored and go outside to play.

Freshmen year in high school I was writing a book about a girl who finds a baby.  The baby’s name is Emily (all my characters were named Emily) and the mother was of course in a southern belle gown and the first two chapters were only dialogue of some sort and my dear teacher said, “Why don’t you write about something you know.”  Something clicked and for twenty eight years hence that is what I write.  And write it well, I believe.  But in my heart I wish I could write a stunning, beautifully choreographed novel.

I am not entirely sure that I could write fiction.  A novel seems preposterous in the creation of worlds and dialogue and characters.  For just in life, I am chained to the truth.  The characters would end up being exact replicas of those in my real life and so at the beginning of said novel I would have to say “all characters are the imagination of the author and any resemblance is purely coincidental (sorry mom)” and the whole plot would read strangely like my blog, and somehow everyone would be wearing southern belle gowns.  I do believe I may be a firm non-fiction writer.  Fabulous, but oh I do wish I could dream up a scape of world complete with whimsy and easy dialogue and characters to remember.  I shall wait patiently for the idea to land upon me.  In the meantime I am dreaming up my next non-fiction farm book…complete with everyone wearing aprons.