Hopeful

I sometimes feel as if
my Hope is flying high,
on wings of bright color
above the Earth's surface.

And when it happens
to perch in a tall tree,
to preen it's feathers and
regroup for the coming storm,

I realize it is still
much closer to Heaven
than those who don't
have Hope at all.

Charlie

A blond ball of energy,
bouncing around a
large room,
making the world
his stage.

Each word he speaks
erupts the room in laughter,
as most four-year-old
superheros do.

A blessing to all he meets,
preceded by a beautiful
nine-year-old,
ready to take on the world.

He blows out the candles
before we sing,
and giggles when we relight
the flames.

Happy Birthday,
four-year-old;
Captain America
salutes you.

Daughter of the Most High: A Poem in Haiku

I am not trying

to change the world, I simply

want to be myself.

I am a chosen

people, a royal priesthood,

a nation of God.

I know now that I

deserve far more than I have

been led to believe,

by a world that does

not know the beauty of a

child of the King. 

*Second haiku borrowed from 1 Peter 2:9*

Metamorphosis

I have a butterfly
hanging on my wall;
a cobalt blue, morphio didius.

Dead on,
standing parallel
to it's frame,
it appears cobalt.

But when the sun shines
through the curtains,
early in the morning
and I am still in bed,

it appears almost transparent,
and the circularly designed
backside of the wings
seeps through.

And from the same spot,
many hours later,
my nightstand light causes
another striking effect:

one wing is magnificently teal
and glimmers stunningly,
while the other is midnight purple,
reminiscent of the night sky.

I am reminded by this butterfly,
as I am by so many others,
that life is almost never
what it seems, and neither
am I.

Move Forward

Some nights,
when the street lights dim
and the stars seem
to shine brighter,
the road seems to
call my name.

And I would so enjoy
turning up the music
and settling in,
charging forward
to the great unknown,
or any known
but here.

Wildfire

An ember lights,
a small fire contained
in the smallest of coals.

It was set aflame by
Their words, bubbling
straight to the core.

And the ashes turned to
flickers, that rose quickly
into flame...

Setting her heart on fire,
with the will to prove them
wrong, squelching fire
with cool determination.

Galilean Revelation

Galileo once said,
"I have loved the stars
too fondly to be fearful
of the night."

And in this clear mountain air,
under a deep navy blue curtain,
I find that he is right.

There is something magical
about stars so bright,
interlaced with stars barely
visible, galaxies away,
that makes me believe it is
impossible to despise
the night.