Looking Up at Trees

Looking up at trees

While lying on my back

Presents an interesting view;

They seem more majestic to me

Than they usually do.

But any way I choose

To look at one of these --

Standing, sitting, or lying down --

A tree just has to be

One of our Maker's

Greatest gifts around.





First published in  my book, "Precious - Collected Poems" - 2009

Dancing Light

Autumn's mellow golden sun

Streams through rippling branches

Performing nature's ballet

Across rug, bookcase, and wall --

Surely as valid as clustering

Chrysanthemums with pumpkins

On front porch steps

To celebrate this season, fall.




(From my book, "Beauty Abounds - 2010)

Celebrating Autumn

        My favorite season of them all!  How do I enjoy September, October and November?  By:


***decorating our front porch with chrysanthemums, usually in shades of yellow and gold and rust, sometimes wine.  Of course, I have to add just the right pumpkins.  I check them out at the roadside stands as though they're going to be permanent, so important is it to get just the right shape and size, with a stem that curls just so and has a touch of green on it.  And always now that I have him, I put out Cletus, our harvest figure.  He's the cutest little fellow, about 3 feet high, with a farmer's cover-alls, plaid shirt, straw hat and happy expression on his face.  When I found him at Wal-Mart some years ago, just knew he was the one I had to take home.  Asked a friend who grew up here in Tennessee, "What's a good Southern name for a farmer?"  She thought for awhile, and same back with Cletus.

***taking a drive through the countryside, exploring back roads, to see pumpkins growing in the fields--so delightful to me.

***eating crisp apples and cinnamon donuts.  I've even added yummy hot chocolate with lots of whipped cream over at Starbucks, imbibed outside early on chilly mornings.  My favorite spot is a table at one corner of the building where the cold winds come whistling around.

***reveling in autumn leaves.  I make angels in the leaves on our neighbor's hill (yes, I do this); standing outside when leaves are pelting down just like I'm standing under a rain shower, rejoicing as they land in my hair; rolling in a pile of just-raked leaves with one of our dogs who gets a kick out of messing everything up.

***sleeping with the windows open.  (Is there anything quite like non-air conditioned air?)

***taking the time to watch October's mellow golden sun stream through wind-rippled branches and perform a ballet across rug, bookcase, and wall--one of nature's many magic shows.

***in order to have our yard light up come spring, planting dozens of daffodils, putting in pretty-faced pansies.


You fellow autumn-aficiandoes no doubt have your own rituals to celebrate this season, but these are some of mine.


(This essay is from my 2011 book, "Sitting On a Rock, Thinking")

Pumpkins in Mist

Vapor rising in cool September air

Shrouds picturesque pumpkins --

              Ready for the local fair

              Ready for porch decorations

              Ready to just be.


A perfect autumn scene

So very Tennessee


(From "And Angels Smile", 2006)

Autumn Night

A big bright moon shines

Through the nearly bare tree

Beside our second-floor window

We almost had cut down and didn't.

Branches shoot out from the main trunk

As if sculpted--picturesque to my sight.

Snow-white curtains move softly in the breeze.

Those I love sleep quietly.

Outside, woodland creatures --

Raccoon/fox/skunk/possum --

         Are no doubt

         Up and about.

I feel His love surround us all

This serene September night.



(From my first published book, "For Love of Christ" - 2006)

Love at First Hold

        Great literature and music through the ages have waxed eloquently on the experience of love at first sight.  But for me, with our very first pet it was love at first hold.

        There we were at the pet store getting treats for some neighbor's dogs, when we happened to wander over to an area where there were some dogs.  A couple were on some newspapers in a wire enclosure, visible to the public.  I looked down, and there was this tiny, probably 8-week-old little black velvety puppy.  His eyes were closed, and a bigger puppy, a rather feisty Chow was trying to play with what would be our doggie.  I picked up this little furry thing, and bingo, fell head over heels in love.  My husband was watching this, and after some time of no doubt seeing the rapturous look on my face--can't begin to describe what I was feeling at that moment--got out his checkbook and said, "Well, I guess we have to take this one home."

        As anyone who knows who has fallen in love with an animal, it is an experience that borders on the divine.  Words fail when one tries to capture the feelings.  But people's faces say all that needs to be said on the subject.  Isn't love wonderful!


(This is from "Beauty Abounds - Poetry and Prose" published in 2010.)

Flowers Wave Their Pretty Heads

(Just composed 3/27/14)


March winds are here;

It's that time of year,

A month I dearly love,

A gift from Him above.

Daffodils, pansies--each with lovely face

Our flower beds now grace.

It's as if they're saying,

As colorful heads are swaying,

We're so happy to be alive!

How can we help but thrive,

Under happy gardener's touch,

Here where we're loved so much,

The Wind Bloweth Where it Listeth

Someone left a streamer

In my favorite oak last night.

Breeze-activated ribbon

Twirls and glitters in the light.

This lovely, silvery thing

Dances on cool winds of spring.


I sit enthralled before this

                 Poem

                      Come to life.




(From "For Love of Christ - Collected Poems - 2006)

Sitting On a Rock, Thinking

(This from my 2011 book of the same name.)



        It was the perfect spot where I could go and be alone and think.  A not-yet-developed area near our house, with big rocks strewn here and there. My favorite was a huge boulder on a hill that took some work to climb.  But the view was worth it.

        What was I thinking about then?  About writing a book.  While being published in magazines and newspapers for many years, my real aspiration was to put out a book.

        Lo and behold, this did come to pass.  In addition to wanting to be an author of a book, or books, was a desire to have them in free public libraries.  Growing up in Dallas, Texas, I was a regular user of our local library, where I would bring home as many books as they'd let me check out.  My parents couldn't afford to buy me books.  Moreover, in later years, I had benefited from my time spent in many of these institutions, especially the world-class Boston Public Library.  One day the thought occurred, wouldn't it be exciting to have a book of mine on library shelves some day.

        And beyond my wildest, not only are my books in libraries all across the USA, but they're in these places as well, in permanent collections.  Some of the foreign (to me) spots on the globe that I've heard from thus far, in no particular order:

Santiago, Chile
Dorado, Puerto Rico
Leicester, England
Lyon, France
Okinawa, Japan
Stirling, Scotland
Newcastle, Australia
Bucharest, Romania
Riga, Latvia
Macao, China
Noumea, New Caledonia
Port Adelaide, Australia
Vaduz, Liechtenstein
Wenjiang, China
Kuala Lumpur, Malalysia
Hiroshima, Japan
London, England
Blagoevgrad, Bulgaria
Rotterdam, the Netherlands
Osaka, Japan
Halifax, Nova Scotia
Seoul, Korea
Cork, Ireland
Valleta, Malta
Aberystwyth, Wales
Katowice, Poland
Orkney Islands, Scotland
Inverclyde, Scotland
Isle of Man
Warsaw, Poland
Cardiff, Wales
Budapest, Hungary
Sskatchewan, Canada
Tokyo, Japan
Lincoln, England
Canberra Australia
Glasgow, Scotland
Dunedin, New Zealand
Newfoundland, Canada
Hangzhou, China
Thessalonika, Greece
Guadalajar, Mexico
Livingston, Scotland
Liverpool, England
Alexandria, Egypt
Tallin, Estonia
Yerevan, Armenia
Nagasaki, Japan
Copenhagen, Denmark
Prague, Czech Republic
Barcelona, Spain
Wellington, New Zealand
Colombo, Sri Lanka
Ontario, Canada
Clackmanshire, Scotland
Aberdeen, Scotland
Rekyavik, Iceland
Dublane, Scotland
Hong Kong, China
Pusan, Korea
Paris, France
Devon, England
San Juan, Puerto Rico
Dundee, Scotland
Ottawa, Canada
Nicosia, Cypress
Fife, Scotland
Manilla, the Philippines
Lisbon, Portugal
Raratonga, Cook Islands
Edinburgh, Scotland
Windhoek, Namibia
Cymru, Wales
Buenos Aires, Argentina
Bejing, China
Ballerup, Denmark
Shanghai, China
Thimpu, Kingdom of Bhutan
Queensland, Australia
Sao Paulo, Brazil
Hamilton, Scotland
Bogota, Colombia
Islamabad, Pakistan
Tblisi, Georgia
Inverness, Scotland
Limerick, Ireland
Bridgetown, Barbados
Nanjing, China
Kintillock, Scotland
Hamilton, New Zealand
Goa, India
Hagatna, Guam
Vienna, Austria
Singapore
Lalitpur, Nepal
the Marianas Islands
Gateshead, England
Majuro, Marshall Islands
Verona, Italy
Chisinau, Moldova
Medellin, Colombia
San Jose, Costa Rica
The Hague, the Netherlands
Suva, Fiji Islands
Milan, Italy
Naples, Italy
Lautoka, Fiji Islands
Moscow, Russia
Trieste, Italy
Minsk, Belarus
Kobenhaven, Denmark
Floriana, Malta
Tauranga, New Zealand
St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands
Belfast, Northern Ireland
Dublin, Ireland


Talk about your expanding horizons!

Sonata Celestial (A scene somewhere in Tennessee)

                                      Golden harp standing



                                      Alone in springtime meadow.



                                      God's winds performing.




(These 2 poems are from "Beauty Abounds - Poetry and Prose" published in 2010)

Asian Skies

There were in Seoul, South Korea

Exquisite skies of special blue,

A hue absolutely breathtaking,

Made clean by cold winds

Coming down from Siberia.

This sky, like those,

Must be a ten.

(Okay, a nine.)

But a day for being out

Unusually fine.

Wild and Beautiful and Free

        What is it with me and wolves?  I cannot tell you.  I only know that these magnificent creatures of the wild are thrilling to see.  They never fail to bring me joy.  And near to tears at times.

        Some time ago we happened to see a documentary showing wolf packs at Jackson Hole, Wyoming.  It was Christmas, and it was pure magic.  Trees laden with ice, the snowflakes glistening the moonlight, wolves running through the deep snow so amazingly fast and free.  I sat there on our sofa with tears running down my face.  Hard to explain such a reaction, but there it was.  Couldn't  help rejoicing that God had created such wonderful creatures.

        Sitting on my desk is a photograph of five wolves out West somewhere, running across a snowy landscape at sundown.  A full moon is still visible, the mountains in the background are a lavendar color, and the tinted snow is a deep purple.  Gorgeous scene.  One can just feel the delight and freedom these wolves must be feeling.  I can, and I'm not a wolf.

        Two of my favorite items of clothing are shirts with wolves on them, one with a huge wolf face staring out, and the other with two animals, one white and one black standing together under a moonlight night. When I wear these shirts, many people comment on them, and some have asked where they can get one like them.  I tell them, from an Indian reservation in New Mexico whereupon I furnish the name and address.

        Also, one of our dogs, a big black handsome thing, with wolf in him the vet once said, plays right into my love of these animals.  Dylan acts like one at times, cannot get enough of cold weather although he's a Tennessee doggie, doesn't like to be handled much, has still after several years of having him, a touch of wildness in him.

        I've read in a nature calendar my husband gave me for Christmas last year that black wolves are often classified as the Alexander Archipelago wolf (Canis lupus ligoni), a relatively small, mostly dark-colored variety of wolf named for islands within Alaska's Tongass National Forest.  Anyway, Dylan looks just like the black wolf staring out at me from the month of March.

        Some people need chemical substances to get them through the day.  Not I.  Just give me a documentary about wolves and I am high.  And the one thing in this natural world I most yearn to see?  The eyes of one of God's most thrilling works -- a wolf in the wild staring back at me.

        Loving wolves as I do, can't help wanting for them

                                         Consideration

                                                    Respect

                                                            Preservation

        I hope you want this for wolves, too.




(This essay is from my latest book, "Words Far-Reaching:  Reflections" - 2013)

Mischa the Cat

The picture you would make,
Stretched out on garden bench,
Regal, like some King
Surveying his realm
This lovely day of spring --
You black with eyes of green,
Stockings white,
Daffodils bright yellow, cream.
You had to  be our cat,
It does seem,
God-caused, no mistaking that.
Wandering into our yard one day,
Starving, surviving all alone.
Now with people who love you,
You can just eat and sleep and play.

And bring us such joy.


(From "Precious - Collected Poems" - 2009)

Trees

        Trees have got to be one of God's greatest gifts around.  Anyway I choose to look at one of these--standing, sitting up, lying down, I never tire of gazing at trees.  Sometimes when outside on our lawn with one of our dogs, I actually lie down and look up at trees.  In this position, they seem especially majestic to me.

        Desert landscapes no doubt possess a certain beauty.  But for me, all that starkness with no trees in sight would do me in.  I have to be surrounded by trees, love them, cannot imagine living where there weren't lots of them around.  And large trees at that.

        You've heard of people who describe themselves as tree-huggers.  Well, I am one.  And then some.  I have actually put arms around them, or tried to with the big ones.  Trees seem almost alive, in a greater sense than just being living things.  I can imagine them talking to one another on those evenings when all is quiet and the world is asleep.

        There's a place we visit in a local park and as we make the winding climb up three levels of the woods, I see a clearing that I've named my cathedral of the trees.  While I've had my share of uplifted, holy moments while sitting in a church made of stone, I do believe, on a bench at the edge of a lovely forest, I'm quite near the Divine.  I often sit there in reflection, all alone--except for the One who created that beauty.

        And even tree trunks have their interest.  We saw one on a trek through the forest that was full of charm.  This one took home the prize, about three feet  high, bright green moss growing here and there, English ivy up one side, the cutest toadstool at its base.  I could picture tiny creatures abiding in its weather-sculpted crevices.  You've got personality, kid!  I said to myself.

        Then there are the glories of autumn trees.  I could write page after page on the show they put on for us.  When fall comes to East Tennessee, our woods are what I call all green and light, the sunlight softening everything, a few colored leaves making their debut.  Then October, all golden and light, trees with leaves of red, yellow, orange and wine, in stunning variation/combination.  Even in early November, nature's fall palette of brightly-colored leaves are still on display.

        If you haven't done so, consider a trip to New England in the fall, just to see the spectacular foliage.  I once thought when I saw nature calendars showing autumn leaves that the reds were touched up.  Not so.  When we visited Vermont, the colors, particularly those reds were nothing short of dazzling.

        And trees in rain have their wonder for me.  I love to take walks in the rain when it's almost dark and the leaves glisten in the lamp light on our street.  And whether in moonlight or sunlight, rain drops on the tips of leaves look like diamonds to me.

        The American poet, Joyce Kilmer, had it right in my view when he wrote:  "Only God can make a tree."  Can't you just picture trees lifting up their leafy arms in praise to their Creator?

     

     (From "Words Far-Reaching:  Reflections - 2013)

Daffodils

Daffodils


April, with its yellow, green and cold

Brings to this England New

Beauty such as Wordsworth saw:  O delight!

Daffodils gracing field and pasture,

Daffodils adorning stone walls old.



Gifts of nature fade from mortal view.

But they, like scenes immortal poets

Paint for all eternity,

To mental sight lovely  linger

All year through.




(From my book, "For Love of Christ - Collected Poems - 2006)