Remembering the Gifts of 2009

May every happiness be yours in the New Year.


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Receive

Receive, receive
the snow, the sifting,
receive the whiteness
sweeping, sweeping
across sear leaves receive,
receiving
the weight of nothing,
air conceiving
wafting crystals,
frost-winged moths
drifting down,
swept aloft.
Across the yard
and limbs receiving,
as the sun is gently leaving,
softness, softness
gently whispering,
softness, softness
now descending
through the trees,
across the eaves,
. . .receive
. .. . receive . . . .
receive . . . .
. . . . . . . receive.


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In Lieu of Flowers. November.

Leave us something of yourself,
sweet trees, indifferent bees,
spiders wrapping up a summer’s job,
now listless in the chilly breeze.
Leave us something of yourself.


Do not forget these eyes that traced
your spinning nets and pollened toes
and watched you love the sky’s bright face
with fingertips that rose
above the earth in garrulous green.


Leave us here believing
in the hills aglow, again -
and in a churning freshet searching
for what it cannot know,
but, then again,

knows.

It is this season’s yearnings
that foretell the bright returnings.


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Joy in the Rain

The rain pattered on my windshield. The park visitors ran for their cars. I continued to read the newspaper until I saw the following through my rain-splattered window. She was a football field's length from me. Still, you couldn't miss her joy in rain.



























Click on this image. Look into the shadows on the right.



I know what she's thinking. Was I ever so young? So purely innocently happy? Perhaps, not. But this child's rain-induced joy is enough for this day.

Update: OK. It was a little projection when I identified that figure in the shade as a crop-haired old woman. Sheesh. Looks like a kid of the male variety:0)



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Lauren and light . . . .

It pleases me so to follow that last post with one filled with light and love. My little grand niece, Lauren Marie, was baptized last weekend. I know I needn't label these pictures. Just think 'love', 'family', 'light' . . . .






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Flying

Our Town Memorial Day Ceremony




Pollen







TAPS


Day is done
Gone the sun
From the lakes
From the hills
From the sky All is well,
safely rest.
God is nigh.
Fading light Dims the sight
And a star Gems the sky,
Gleaning bright From afar,
Drawing nigh,
Falls the night.
Thanks and praise,
For our days,
Neath the sun,
Neath the stars,
Neath the sky,
As we go,
This we know,
God is nigh.

This is where I am. "Looking Up" is merely recording visuals. People or insects. Clouds of moisture or pollen. For you who drop by, I turn and smile a knowing smile. The only caption I would wish for these pictures as they sift from the ether - is Gratitude.

Life flies. Beauty is at hand. Run, run! That's all. Sending you all smile upon smile from this sixty-two year old woman who has lived in the greatest country on earth and now looks back with gratitude and forward with hope.

When snow drifts the door . . . I'll return to your lintels. Fly! Fly!

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