The rodent pops from the hole not a weasel, not a mole like a turtle from its shell, we gather round waiting for a tell. Winter, winter, go away… Too bad, his shadow’s here to stay. Somebody better get a gun– that groundhog better run!
You’re Unforgettable. Love, Emmanuel
Every one in the world May have a gift this Christmas Most will doubt the validity And offer up resistance, but No one is excluded from Unconditional acceptance Even when they don’t accept themselves. Love, hope, and peace in Jesus.
***This is a sonnet in the form of ABBA ABBA CDECDE*** When King Herod called the money changer To count all the people across the land From Galilee Sea to Bethlehem sand Baby boys were born in extreme danger. Wisemen came from distant countries stranger While sleeping lowly shepherds took a stand When an angelContinue reading “The Boy (a Petrarchan Sonnet)”
The little one jumped on a chair, and pulled his sister’s shining hair. She screamed and hit him, His fall broke a limb, and now the pain’s more than he can bear.
The horse nickered. The knight clutched the reins tighter as he waited. She glanced down from the turret window and wondered, “will he come for me?” Thunder clapped. The horse jerked, fearful of the coming storm as he waited. “Should I run to him? Shall I pack my bags and ride away with him?” Mist rolled in.Continue reading “A Misty Eve”
How did the butterfly get its name?Did it land on a stick of butter? Or maybe on the butter churn?Did the first one have wings of yellow?Or did it slide down a window easily?Did it flutter around with pollen on its feet? How did the butterfly get its name?Did it steal the milk and butter? PhotoContinue reading “Butterfly”
Most days I swim in the shallows of daily life, “What’s for dinner; Honey, help me please; Oh, that looks good; Where is this thing?” Occasionally, Great White dives into the abyss and pulls a glowing creature from the depths of my darkness that illuminates a way for others, be it a story, a poem,Continue reading “Abyss”
And now as this northern wind blows cold I desire to read poets and writers of old- those scribes we can no longer blithely hire as I sit sipping tea under a blanket by the fire. Oh give me a pithy Shakespearean play to digest as I dreamily drain the day away or a heartyContinue reading “A Lazy Day”