poetry, fiction, nature, culture, compassion, love
And when he walked in with a bouquet of Christmas flowers,
she wrapped her arms around his neck,
placed her head on his shoulder, grateful
and they stood there for a long time holding on
silently praying for each other
and for the healing
of our nation.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
Lying and fear often make difficult lovers
and even worse neighbors,
preferring themselves instead
of another,
so we pull back
our tenderness don’t we?
At least until we feel safe again
we pretend not to care.
Yet within our scars
builds a determination
or something
vaguely seeming to be hope,
so we press forward again,
straight into the wind
and then
we go vote.
Note: Please remember to vote on November 6th. We need to each do our part to help stop the madness, and strife.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
The shadow of crow wings fall
on my shoulders
as a grasshopper takes off again,
from the tall grass,
a few more steps and the crow calls
as if to awaken me
looking up I realize
brother sun
is in both our eyes
filling us
with courage.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
As we pull onto the highway, she falls asleep again, head bobbing. I whisper, “Rest My Love, put your head back.”
She does fall asleep and I wonder, is this because she is awake at night, worrying? Or is it the treatment putting her to sleep?
Changing lanes, I do have a flash of fear, as I think of the magic marker and tape on and around her chest. So much has happened.
Somehow, and I don’t know how, a prayer is lifted up. It’s amazing how prayer is so easy to breathe in now.
As we pull into our neighborhood I whisper, “We’re home sweetheart….” She opens her eyes, and I notice how beautiful the Rose of Sharon are……this time of year.
Note: Thank you to everyone for your positive thoughts and prayers! If you did not know, my wife is fighting cancer again, and we have begun using the first weapon…… in the arsenal.
Poetry and All Images © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
Don’t bury your pen just yet my brother, my sister
the journey of your light has just begun
and there are still songs
that need to be written,
and still music
in your heart
from the mountains.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain
or usher storm, but to add color
to my sunset sky.”
Rabindranath Tagore
Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies
In my state, the police have blue lights mostly
but they can mix the blue with red,
and the fire department uses only red
but they usually throw in
some white to be seen.
Thank God they are there
true heroes of America
the men and women
working,
even on Christmas day.
Poetry © Copyright 2017, ancient skies
Image from unknown artist via google
