Blue Skies in the Morning

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Even in times when we cry out, hoping for, yearning for

searching for, those blue skies in the morning,

He will hear us, even in our darkest nights,

as our prayers are answered

with the sun

breaking through

with rays,

of light.

Introducing the new name for my fiction blog – Blue Skies in the Morning!

It’s still a work in progress, but I’m very excited about it. It still has the same web address, for now.

You can find it here:

www.themysticalforest.wordpress.com

There is always hope.

     

Poetry, Writing, and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

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A Great Shaking Within the Mystical Forest

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As many of you know I have a fiction blog, which you can find here:

www.themysticalforest.wordpress.com

Well, I’m not sure how it happened really, but there has been a noticeable change in the direction the stories have taken. I started out with some great series, including the Sacred Mountain and Sword of Talon Series.

There you will find kings and queens, swords, adventure, and romance. One of my favorite features were the Living Bows (as in bows and arrows). I was having a great time.

But you know what?? My focus as a writer has changed. Now I write a lot more about compassion, and angels helping people, and even God caring about us……h’mmm. Perhaps that was the real me in the first place.

Currently an angel is shaking up the site, his name is Henry Vu. Originally Henry was from Vietnam, and let me tell you, this dude is powerful! Powerful, as in filled with compassion.

Anyway I’m saying/writing this to let you know you will see some changes over there, including the name! I’m not sure about the new name yet, but I think it will have the word Sky or Skies in it.

Thanks for reading.

Peace.

P.S. This is not my normal morning post. I’ll be sending out a love poem shortly!

       

Writing and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

The Great Oak Tree

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It was one of those mornings where the wind had no mercy on the Great Oak Tree. The huge bare branches creaked as the tree moaned in pain. The temperature was about 6 degrees, enough to weaken even the strongest oak.

But really the oak had no thought of himself, because he had a greater concern. As the poet walked by briskly, mumbling words from Rumi, or was it a prayer? The Great Oak Tree made even more moans and creaking sounds to catch his attention.

The poet stopped and listened. He heard very distinctly the wind speaking through the branches, “Please don’t forget the poor this year, especially the ones without a home.”

A tear fell from the poet’s eye, or was it just the cold? And he did go on his way, mumbling again words from Rumi, or was it from Tagore?

But he did not forget the poor, and kept thinking as he walked …… what he could give this year.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

Gift in a Whisper

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She lay awake, next to him listening to him breathe. It was dawn now, and she didn’t want to disturb him, but she really did want to see if it was snowing yet.

As she quietly peered through the window, and into the grey dawn, she saw the wind was up, and carrying the snow almost sideways. What should she get him for Christmas? She sighed, and lay down again, touching his shoulder.

For some reason she needed to tell him how she felt, and she whispered to his sleeping ear, “Did you know you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me……?”

He did hear the words, and he let them sink in deeply. It was the greatest thing anyone had ever said to him. He opened his eyes to her beaming smile.

She whispered again, “It’s snowing….”

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

The Discarded Muse

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As she watched her human, she noticed he was in a dream world again. His feet gently walking, barely touching the fallen leaves, deep in the forest. A twig snapped, he froze not moving.

Hooves tore through the silence of the forest, as two deer bolted over the brush. The muse waited, hovering over the forest floor, drawing her long cloak around her.

But the human surprised her, by looking straight at her and saying: “No thanks, I already know what to write today…..”

She harrumphed, turning and disappearing in the trees. She thought, “If this keeps up I won’t be needed for much longer….”

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

The Rider

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There was no saddle, as he gently nudged the horse forward – his favorite, the black and white, long mane so graceful. He shifted slightly, as he looked up and in one magnificent motion, they lunged – attacking the hill, the horse snorting his approval.

They aimed for the ridge, passing the pine trees and spruce. The smell overcame his leather. Higher and higher they climbed, with the muscles of the horse rippling, straining, hooves digging into the earth and rock.

And then they were at the top, where the large oak was on fire with yellow and red. And the eagle waited patiently in the oak, as he had promised. But it was the hawk that gently landed on his  shoulder, that encouraged him the most.

It was then that the poet knew, he was home again.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

At the Church in the Harbor

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It was the same each week. She mainly went to church now to see him, even though he had been gone for such a long time. The fog in her aged mind was always hopeful though that somehow, in some way, she would see him there. She even sat in the same pew each week in hopes he would find her easily.

She was so tired lately, she usually feel asleep during the homily. Sometimes her head slumped over, onto her nurse’s shoulder. She tried not to snore, and she would wake herself up when she heard the noise.

Then there was one Sunday, she did wake up because she could feel his presence. She knew it was him, even before she looked. After all, when you’ve been married for 45 years you get to know a person’s spirit.

She turned to her left and there he was, at least part of him was. His spirit had a gray shape, but it was him for sure. He smiled at her.

The strange thing was, even though he didn’t quite have a body, she could see his one tooth was still missing – there on the left.

He took her hand now. And they began floating near the ceiling of the church, and suddenly they entered the most beautiful, and brilliant light she had ever seen.

And she felt great peace as they ascended, because he was still by her side.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies