Summer's Return

And the sunshine
brings out my freckles
as it warms and shifts my skin,
returning them to the surface
where they belong.

The grass is green as spring
and soft under my feet;
the clouds float lazily
in a bright blue sky.

The beauty of it all,
and the inevitable return
of summer, is enough
to bring a tear to my eye.

This Redwood Cries

If I was a tree,
I would be a Redwood;
strong and tall,
reaching straight up
to hug the sky.

And they would stand amazed,
there on the ground,
staring up as high as they could,
unable to locate my
top most branch.

And like me, you are a Redwood,
but you cower as I once did,
believing the lie that you're
just an Oak.

How I wish you could see
from my view.

Burning Sky

The sky was on fire tonight,
burning casually against
the horizon.

And my heart was on fire too,
burning slowly in my chest,
reminding me that I'm
alive.

I wonder if the sky felt as
uncomfortable as I did.

Or if it felt like
folding up on itself,
being as small as possible
as to make itself feel
less.

But I suppose not.

After all, it is just a sky.

Samantha Love

Words cannot describe the pictures in this newest post from Grace, found here. Grace had to say goodbye to Samantha for now, until she can go back and rescue her for good. Please pray that this process would be quick, as it needs to happen before Mid-July, or it won't happen until after September. Samantha needs to come home, and we have a God big enough to do it!

Cardinal

Red feathers bound
out of a spring tree
diving to the ground,
then pushing toward the sky.

The sleek cardinal looks
scared, out of place...
As if he doesn't belong
in this fresh, warm April.

And she finds herself sympathizing,
looking to the sky for answers,
trying to find a way home.

Train Tracks

I hear a whistle

in the distance

and realize

that there are

freight train tears

running down

salty tracks

on my face.

Moving

so fast

I can't catch them.

But I chase

after them

anyway,

open arms

in an open field,

under an

eye blue sky

punctuated

with white clouds

that float away

with a

sigh of wind.

Precious Samantha

Here's another post from Grace in Bulgaria. The pictures included made my heart melt with joy. The story is heartbreaking. Please pray today that Grace and Anna were able to get the formula they took with them into the orphanage and to the children. Continued prayers for safety and health are also appreciated. Blessings to you all.

Butterfly Parade

The butterflies are everywhere,
coming out of the woodwork
of an empty field that has been
overtaken by spring workers.

They float in pairs and in groups,
allowing the tall grass to tickle
their bellies, and the sun to warm
their wings. And I find myself in an

open field, tall grass surrounding me
as I lay with eyes closed under the
bright blue, April sky. And when I open
my eyes, I am covered in color, as
hundreds of the beautiful creatures
cover my skin.

They hold on tightly with tiny
insect legs, and pull me up by my
metaphorical bootstraps. Reminding
me as they do so often, that I can fly.

Gratitude, III

Tonight, as the moon shines,
I am thankful for:

Beautiful friends
with beautiful hearts.

The smile on a friend's face
as she sits with her daughter
in a video taken
half way across the world.

The beauty of celebrating
with friends and family I haven't
been able to see in awhile.

Laughter and movies
and Chinese food and
the little sister I never had.

And sunshine.

Praise be to God!

So many beautiful blessings are happening this week. One of the best can be found here. This is the first video of little miss Samatha Love Knuth, my friend Grace's daughter who she FINALLY got to meet in person today (or yesterday if we're talking Bulgarian time). Here's a post that Grace wrote about their first meeting (grab a box of tissues for this one folks; tears of joy were flowing).

Contrails and Smoke

The smoke dissipates
on this country road
as I chase contrails
I will never catch.

And the rosy hue of a
sunset in the west on an
April night almost makes the
drive worthwhile.

Moths dance in the spotlight
cast from headlights
that illuminate their dingy wings,
making them shine like
precious stones.

Hope hangs in the air
with the wisp of moon
that barely glows against
a backdrop of fire orange
and sky blue gradient.

But like the contrails,
that grow fainter with each mile,
I am fading.

Like the moths,
I fly.

Why Do You Write?

Even when I don't feel like it,
or the words simply won't come...
I write.

When I'm tired and my eyes droop,
if I'm angry, and afraid it will spill on to the page,
I write.

I don't do it for you...
even if you show up in the words
from time to time.

I do it for me, I do it because I have to.
And it isn't because of some silly blog,
it's so my heart can breathe.

Dancing Reminder

The butterflies are
everywhere lately.

I see them fluttering about
in the breeze, with the
backdrop of a beautiful
blue sky.

They dance past my windshield,
keeping time with no one's music
but their own.

And I am reminded once again,
when I had just about forgotten,
that like the butterflies
in an April breeze,
I too can fly.

Sleep (A Haiku)

The pillow beckons
like an old friend, calling me
to the land of dreams.

After

This is just a little diddy I put together last year after reading Delirium, a dystopian novel by Lauren Oliver. It is a style completely out of my norm that I wanted to attempt. Enjoy!


Mirabelle woke to the shrill sound of the alarm screaming in her ears, just as she did every morning. She sighed, rolled on to her side and waited thirty seconds for the buzzing to stop. As soon as it did, she swung her feet off the bed onto the cold, cork floor. She made her bed carefully, leaving no visible creases, then grabbed her stack of clean clothes and made her way down the hall to the bathroom which, of course, was empty. She slipped out of her government issued night dress and pressed the shower button, slipping seamlessly into her morning regimen: wash hair, scrub body, rinse face. The water shut off after the allotted three minutes, at which time Mirabelle wrung out her long, auburn hair, dried off and put on her Monday outfit: white shirt, knee-length khaki skirt, red cardigan embellished slightly with a white ‘M’ on the right shoulder, underlined in one line each of grey and pink.
As soon as she dropped her night dress into the laundry chute, she raced down the stairs, hungry as she always was.
“Mirabelle, control yourself! Ladies walk, they do not tromp down stairs like young boys,” her mother crooned from the kitchen. As all mothers did, she had the ability to yell without raising her voice, because a lady never raises her voice.
“Yes, mother; I’m sorry,” Mirabelle responded, entering the kitchen and taking her seat for breakfast. Rumor had it that Before, when mother was a child, family members could have whatever they wanted for meals, they could even fix it themselves. But Mirabelle would never know if it was really true or not; mother refused to talk about it, and Mirabelle knew better than to bring it up.
“Your breakfast dear,” her mother said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Two egg whites, vanilla yogurt with granola and a serving of blueberries; enjoy!”
After eating her mostly bland breakfast, Mirabelle gathered her school bag and headed out on her daily walk to school. She saw other students on her way, making sure to wave cordially as was expected. Upon entering the school building, Mirabelle made her way to her locker-cube and set up for the day.

Empty Sky

I haven't seen the moon
in days. He's been hiding
and so have I.

I realized it today, while driving
down the highway. The clouds
were calling my name, but I
didn't have time to fall prey to their beauty.

And it was just as a butterfly
grazed my windshield, leaving a
glimmering trail behind, that I
thought I saw the white skeleton of
my midnight friend...

But when I looked again, he was
gone; hiding behind a wisp of cloud,
so I put my sunglasses on and
pretended I couldn't see him
either.

Intimidation Week

Don't-- can't
I
Trying so hard
Aching
Pushing and pushing
But I can't-- don't
see the progress
of a process
And words on a page
that run together and
I-- I don't,
couldn't possibly...
But I will.

Rise from the Dirt

Oil pastel clouds
move quickly over
an empty field
drowning in fresh
rain

And as the clouds
swirl overhead
she realizes that
she is like the field...

Full of possibility
and hope in the wake
of the storm.

Storm Watcher

Rain thrown in
bucketfuls against
a glass house

Just as one storm
retreats, another
finds it's legs

And the fog settles in
thick, preparing the way
for round two

But this glass house
stands tall, with
steel bones

Bring on the storm.

Pulse

A heartbeat that I am
constantly trying to
tune out

With windows open
and music loud
I drown out the beat
of an organ that won't
be reasoned with

But even when I give
my best effort, my all
I can still feel the
blood pumping

Gratitude, II

Tonight my heart
is filled with thanks:

For beautiful words
from a poet long gone

For friendly faces
sharing laughs and
silly moments

For God's children
each so wonderfully
gifted, with art skills
to rival Picasso
and voices sweet
as honey

For stories shared,
both real and imagined

For friendship of all forms,
the new and the old

And for rain.

Watercolor Prayers

A teal-blue
gradient sky
in the west
interrupted by
one small star

Reminding me
that the sun has set
on yet another day

And with an
open heart and
an ever-present hope
I say a little prayer
alone on this
country road

For you


For the empty seat
in my life that
you will one day fill

For patience
and strength

For moments like
this perfect sky

For faith

For thanksgiving
and a God that
paints sunsets
in watercolor

Cry Wolf

Clouds are unraveling
pulling away to the
sunshine and clarity
of a bright blue sky

And I steady myself
for a storm that has
already retreated
but holds onto me
like a spun web

With eyes closed
tight, and fists clenched
I prepare for the rain
just as the sunshine
warms my face

Afternoon Drive

Smoke billows from
small fires burning
along this country
road

Dark puffs of
ash mix and mingle
with streaks of clouds
in a quiet Nebraska sky

And the air smells
of campfires and
summertime

A reminder that
time moves on
and the best is
yet to come

Why do you look for the living among the dead? Our Lord has conquered the grave! He is risen, alleluia!

Struggle

Faces in a dream
Memories clouding
my vision

Sun in my eyes
on an empty
country road

Dust in the air
as my hair blows
in the wind

And I try to run
I've been trying
for so long

But there you are

And here I am
fighting again

But am I fighting for
my heart...

Or yours?

Bloom

I was like driftwood
floating aimlessly
down a muddy river

He gave me roots
on a bank near the water
through His own son

And every day I grow
stronger and stronger
budding and blooming
in His glorious light

Wink

A perfect white moon
smiles down from a
watercolor sky
as the sun sets
in the west

And I am caught up
in the beauty of
this moment

But just as I find myself
thinking of the past
and the uncertain
future

The moon beckons
Calling me to hope

Think of Me

Open window on a
cool, spring night

Curtains flutter in the
slightest breeze

Starlight hangs in
navy sky, above the
city lights here

And there

Do they twinkle with
the same hope where
you are?

Picture

Bird outside my window
chirps the morning's hello
but I fight the sunshine
and keep my eyes
closed tight, willing the
scene of dreams to
materialize behind
the rosy hue of
sunshine tugging at
a mind that wants to
play in the shadows
just a little bit longer.

Imagine

The sky swirls, navy
ready to burst any moment
with rain drop tears
of gratitude

And the stars twinkle
behind the clouded veil
waving greetings
of hope

My mind wanders
with the cool breeze
of night, off to
distant lands
of beauty

Perennial

Petals part as the sun rises
opening up to the beauty
of a new day

Having already pushed
effortlessly out of the dirt
for their triumphant return

Strong, stems
bright petals
dancing in the wind
of a new April day.