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For Sitting On The Porch . . . .
For Sitting On The Porch. . . It is a night for sitting on the porch. The night is soft and there is a breeze about. Soft. A love night. . . How could it be better? Only to share with an Other whose eyes see as mine do; the shapes of the trees…
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To Remember Is Our Liberation. . .
I remember once or many times saying that I wish to pick up a book and understand what they were saying. I wanted wisdom. I wanted to understand. I wanted there to be a difference about me that others could see and say she is different. I am different. Our words are the same…
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An Affair Of The Heart. . .
An Affair Of The Heart. . . If you are a front line worker, a miracle worker appearing first to cries of crises, and you are driving home at the end of the day, you begin to talk in the silence of your car. You vent and cry with fatigue, with sadness, with curses…
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The Invisible Challenge . . . .
The Invisible Challenge . . . I post today a subject close to my heart and mind that boundaries in thought subject our young people in ways detrimental to their growth and honesty. It comforts the adults to be sure but the relationship goes nowhere. With Sunday’s go to church approaching,…
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The Lesson In Strawberries. . . .
5/31/24. . . There is always a someone in mind when I wish to repeat a post. A reason because I want to shout to the world that here is a person of worth and high calibre that the rest of the world does not know as we who know and love her. And…
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Explaining The Reason. . . .
If We Had. . . and Truth be Known. . . . Her grey hair was tied up in a knot with an elastic band with wisps circling her face. Not neat in any way but ends swinging as if the haircut was long overdue but her smile was now and the joy present. Her…
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Even a little bit of difference. . . .
This potholder was made by our friend Sally’s mother. She made many of them and when she left this earth, Sally gave each of us a potholder to take home. And I tell you true, every time I have used this I bring to mind Sally’s mom to wonder if she made great strides in…
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The Work Of Being More Human. . .
On being a more human being. . . When I first decided to make a small table out of a no longer used chopping block, I think the cosmic forces went into cardiac care. I remembered safe practises learned from my brothers and sons, but neglected to secure the work on the table. With…
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Life’s Connectedness is what must endure. . . . .
I wrote to Maria Wulf (fullmoonfiberart.com) for permission to share her post which drew my attention. It is such a deep pleasure for one like me to share the larger picture when our thoughts merge. There is a connection in the soul that has no word coming to mind, describing what happens when an Other…
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Always the Empty Chair. . . Times Such as These. . .
It is late. And I am an old woman. I sit here and cannot see the keys of the keyboard because I weep. I have delayed coming and writing this again which seems to be a signature poem of mine and it is not an honor I wish to claim. In differing times I took…