Author: Carol Welch
Date: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Waiting for the Train of Life to Arrive

Diversity of Value
Estrangement
Hope
Delay of Spring Weather
Dream Town
Can't Bear the Intrusion
Receipt Versus Defeat
Attempting to Please
Flag of Honor
A Daily Prayer
Serving Birdies
Demise of a Folk Song
Infinite Father
Shelter and Remedy
Feast of the Day
Unincorporated
Independence Day Night
Matching Tempo
Summer Shower
County Fair
Rainbow Dream
Thanks for the day
Meadows
The Height of Summer
Tribute to a Precious Widow
Gift of Today
Stower Seven Lakes Trail
Woodbine
Summer Visit
Memories of Linda
Idea Catcher
Homeplace
Illumined
Fall Festival
Cheap Roll of Tissue
Accepting Change
Summer Reprieve
Sunflower's Finale
Rock-a-bye Baby and Eagle
Practice on the Scraps
Love Getting the Victory
Dishwasher Principles
Vast Gifts
Voyage that Found Our Land
Audit or Edit
Happy Years
Newspaper and Radio
Observing Dissimilar Days
Secret, Sprightly Squirrels
Progress and Perfection
Minnesota Maller
Sharing With an Older Friend
Who Are We?
Colors Exchanged
Tradition(s) of Thanksgiving
Vain Search or Triumph
Christmas in Two Places
Our Gift for Christmas
The Portrayal
Lawful But Not Convenient
New Year 2015
Losing or Gaining Strength
What Will They Think Of Next
Snowbird Trade-off
Just the Fringes
Figs and Faith
Healing of a Life
Address Book
A Villanelle of a Day Spent Well
Gift of Golden Thread
Good morning
Anticipating Seasons
Valentine Man
Difficult Trade-off
News and Living
Nurture's Song
Creation Purpose and Beauty
Amery Spring Show
Longevity
Gifts of Sharing
Expressing a Good-natured Compliment
Applaud or Edit
Red Oaks Ending the Winter
Spring, as We Expected
Hats Off to Spring Show
Canine Companions
Cherishing Each Other

Diversity of Value

The poet and the physicist
appraised the world so vast,
the fleeting entities to list
and what was apt to last.

They shared with the philosopher,
who said, what is today,
although consumed, not to defer,
of more import may weigh.

When that which was is all amassed,
predicted what may be,
the moment lived may well outlast
what's gained materially.

Marvel at particle and ray,
and mysteries of the mind;
joy we receive and give away,
an aura leaves behind.

Estrangement

Estrangement, sad word for what has been,
when two paths walked no longer intersect,
a sense not likely to return again,
though valued more, perhaps, in retrospect.

How prized, heart warming, glowing, is the bond,
acquaintance growing, trust, as time proceeds.
Identifying, respecting, growing fond,
close friendship springs, and love too, from such seeds.

With deepening of time and company,
more facets of mutual perception grew.
Acceptance, understanding came to be;
what formerly was just surmised, we knew.

Misunderstanding passing unexplained,
some differing opinions unresolved,
to keep the peace, pseudo agreement feigned,
step by step a widening breach evolved.

When gradually omitted day by day,
attention dwindling piecemeal finds it changed.
Things that had delighted, falling by the way.
A bond that once was held dear--now, estranged.

Alliances and actions of society,
bonds for mutual interest are arranged
Neglect to convey their stand openly,
like individuals, broken bond--estranged.

Hope

Leaving, it's a hollow;
returning, it's a balm,
serenity with energy,
empowered, steeped in calm.

The crease that draws the face up taut,
the doubt that we can cope,
paradigm that freezes thought,
watered, refreshed by hope.

It puts the stepping stone in place;
thawed action comes about.
The change of heart shown on a face,
and hope has conquered doubt.

So, take God's Hand, forgetting fear;
the forward move can be.
Abiding substance, feel and hear;
embrace it lastingly.

Delay of Spring Weather

Oh, sunlight, you're kind of deceptive;
a wind from the north we detect.
Of spring warmth we would be perceptive;
the chill is not what we expect.

To complain isn't pretty or winsome;
the good is the light on grass green.
So, we'll try to be pleasant, not sin some.
enjoy all the good that is seen.

The scarves, so in style, also cozy,
fit right in to accent the day.
And breeze that makes our cheeks rosy,
is an obscure feature of May.

Gratitude, the attitude tweaking,
before long, a smile will just beam.
Set aside our complaints, vainly creaking,
and live, 'til emerges spring's dream.

Dream Town

I fantasize a little town, well, not so very small,
with most desirable conveniences.
sites of beauty, and renown, perhaps not all,
but enough of each to please the senses.

The village I'm seeing, this city if you will,
provides entertainment , recreation,
rivers and lakes, not too high a hill,
opportunities for occupation.

With parks and trees enough to rest the eyes,
for merry climbing on and for game-playing,
old structures, long-lived, staid; new bring surprise,
some refurbished, so notice we are paying.

The leaders are our citizens who guide her,
who have served right here in their careers,
civil servant, educator, health provider,
state lawmaker, as well, through the years.

Gazing admiringly at her broad main street,
where vintage blends in with contemporary:
lawyers, brokers, stores,and spots to eat,
varied cuisine, enjoy diverse art, and tarry.

I picture stately steeples, standing tall,
their reverence to a shielding God proclaiming,
compassion to lift up those who fall,
the welfare of all citizens sustaining.

Provisions for health, care, guidance reside
in facilities with multiple needs providers.
Even displaced pets, cared for, kind-eyed,
hospitality extended to outsiders.

Where flags fly high for our land with regard,
and others are displayed with due respect.
Those who disregard the law would find it hard,
to deal with penalties that they collect.

Vision of desired fairness, meeting needs,
seeking beauty anywhere I roam,
the best of both the small and the large leads,
right to where I am now--Amery--home.

Can't Bear the Intrusion

Marauder, yes, you sure astonished me,
on my lawn in early hours of morning.
My lovely bird friends scared into a tree;
robbed of their dinner without any warning.

You furry forest denizen, you've strayed,
into a home that did not bid you greeting.
Our joy it is, that long you haven't stayed,
more than just the birdies dinner eating.

Our forest friend, although you're picturesque,
it might be good to be just woods-specific.
When I'm here calmly working at my desk,
I don't want to encounter guests horrific.

Please think of it; I can not bear intrusion,
in my yard where peace should be the norm.
So bear with me, and join me in conclusion,
a bear should not our habitation storm.

Receipt Versus Defeat

"It's a word to the wise."
the sages say.
Often, though, it slips by ears and eyes,
along the way.

"Just hold your tongue when you're not sure,"
words aptly said.
Those blurted-out words that frowns incur,
to shame have led.

Plan ahead, guard amply to avoid,
confusion of lost facts,
some organization in sanity employed,
proof in hand, avoiding careless acts.

With joy, just now, I do proclaim success;
instead of bitter pill, the answer sweet:
a refund instead of grim redress.
Keep the receipt.

Attempting to Please

I want to do a lovely thing,
to please and warm your heart.
Savory, delicious food I'd bring,
or flowers from the mart.

I'd try to wear your favorite dress,
or style, with skill , my hair,
avoid all disarray and mess,
to show I'm glad you're there.

It may be that you'll eat the food,
with subjects on your mind,
that you regard as just as good,
more fascinating find.

My dress and hair be simply there
among points of our greeting,
Ideas more a thing to share,
as we enjoy our meeting.

May one present a good surprise,
when, can she really know him?
You'll see that, as one loves, she tries::
I'll give to you a poem.

Flag of Honor

Wave and wave again, oh precious flag;
proclaim our aim of freedom, justice too.
In the power of God, we will not lag;
wall of enemy and self He triumphs through.

Wave on, oh flag, with altruistic aim,
for citizens and nations of the world,
that victory of justice we may claim,
testified by red, white, blue unfurled.

Oh, may wisdom ever be our guide,
the red, the blood of those for freedom shed;
the white, pure motive, God be on our side;
blue, justice, perseverance led.

Human frailties, baseness, nonetheless,
that, beneath your charge seek to hold sway,
we pray that a greater power will bless ,
and your unsullied presence mark the day.

Fly on, red, white and blue in power,
by goodness aimed, and fortitude avowed,
respect to all, in daily walk or peril's hour,
compassionate, with moral right endowed.

A Daily Prayer

Lord, Heavenly Father, I seek to honor you,
and all I say is far beneath Your worth.
So far beneath You, all I say and do,
and yet I owe to you my life and birth.

Your kingdom far beyond imagination's scope,
and still I pray the little bit of it I know,
will be among us, bringing hope.
Until Your glorious face and presence show.

To be touched by You in word or thought,
that I may know your will, promote it too.
and simply to see and act as I ought,
direction offered, Lord, I look to you.

Heavenly Father, I read Your good intent,
that all may know of You and to receive,
the gracious salvation You have sent,
through Your precious Son when we believe.

And, as we speak to you of heavenly realms,
depending on you our souls to please inform,
beyond our imagination, it overwhelms,
as we submit to You our souls to storm.

Our needs you have so generously supplied;
our spirits crave Your substance to sustain,
to keep us growing closed to Your side,
and grant us perseverance to remain.

My Lord, how greatly You've forgiven me,
and offer pardon when I go astray.
May I by Your grace, then, as forgiving be,
to others who encounter and pass my way.

Bless them, Father, with Your love and light ,
guide them too, as you are guiding me.
Through Your love and word that tell what's right,
give them the grace their souls to be set free.

Oh, against the tempter my great bulwark be,
and guide me that I do not slip and fall.
Thank you for the hand reached out to me,
when I acknowledge You my all in all.

Oh, let me remember what You teach,
and may I regard Your kingdom lovingly,
as you've offered me Your home to reach,
that with You I will spend eternity.

Serving Birdies

It's Saturday at birds' cafe,
and rain comes driving down.
Seed's gone; it's wet; it makes us fret.
If birds could frown, I'd frown

The feeder where we take our share,
empty, as you'd surmise.
The one unreachable is full;
our beaks can't reach the prize.

Where is the cup that fills them up?
We're watching from the trees,
for the lady who comes dripping out,
with a smiling, "If you please."

Oh happy day, at birds' cafe;
our server's on the ball.
Though showers spit, we'll weather it,
and nibble through the squall.

We "Peep" and "Chip" in lieu of tip,
though wondering when they'll fix
the one our beak can"t find technique,
to nip the tasty mix.

The fresh spring rain, though we disdain
to crowd on one small feeder,
we'll sing gratefully for the food we see,
so she comes back when we need her.

Demise of a Folk Song

The birds and bears on Wolverton Mountain
have nothing on the conflict in my yard.
Next to my birdbath, the birds' own fountain,
the feeder as the target, bears strike hard.

The birds have no recourse but to leave us
and go to feeders where no bears attack.
Though the lack of song and color grieve us,
it's summer, and the birds for food won't lack.

It seemed to me on Wolverton, those bears
and birdies joined their forces to prevent
the young man drawn to court the maiden fair,
these bears and birds in opposition bent.

So birds, I guess words are said in sorrow;
the feeders, now unfilled, are put away.
It's only, should there be some glad tomorrow,
bears moved away, we'd feed the birds. Hurray!

Infinite Father

Look all that You have done, oh Lord;
I can't find any words that would express.
Infinite: You personify the word.
We see ultimate creativeness .

Giving us our senses to relate:
a gift, with the creation to unite.
Bountiful Father, our brimming plate
overflows with wonders of Your light.

From smallest organism to the large,
minor detail to the cosmos seen.
Our lives, the outcomes in Your charge,
our very being Your design has been.

Infinite, You give substance to the word;
we stand in awe before You, God of all.
That You would be our Father, Your reward,
Your kingdom for us, ransomed from the fall.

Shelter and Remedy

When danger comes near to my dwelling,
I ask Your comfort to come and your peace,
acute fear of the peril dispelling.
Oh, let the uncertain anxiety cease.

A canopy over my head and home,
I need while I gather my strength and wits.
My resources, please brace, 'til aid should come,
my armor be, as I weather the blitz.

Since I am not alone, I can lean on,
the faithful shoulder of strength You provide.
My path, no longer slip and careen on,
my perception clears with you at my side.

Although, outside the storm is unruly,
abating, welcome, comes into view.
Relief comes, not affected, but truly,
Our powerful God and Father from you.

Feast of the Day

The sun comes surging from the east,
and prompts my drowsiness to break.
My eyes partake of the vast feast;
to wondrous world of God , I wake.

Bird songs may regale my dears,
flutter of aspen's leaves applause,
loved speaking of a dear one cheers;
a strain performed sounds forth and awes.

That, which in nature, God imparts,
He nurtures in the hands of men,
though rare, to bless and touch our hearts.
In gift of sound, we feast again.

Summer mornings, balmy, sweet,
breezes stirring touch the face.
Soft grass or gravel 'neath the feet,
our feast of touch enriches days.

Coffee's aroma lures our nose,
to join into the feast of taste.
Smell of bacon, scent of rose;
our senses feast, delight embraced.

A heart of gratitude may swell;
as when the sun comes in the east.
Abundance felt, that all is well,
we join into the bounteous feast.

Unincorporated

Papa, the train is coming to our town;
now everything will be so fresh and new;
Our little shops and school will rate renown.

We'll gather as we watch the sun go down;
our village will have parties every night.
Papa, the train is coming to our town.

Our town will grow before the leaves turn brown;
shows popular, put tedium to flight,
as little shops and school all rate renown.

Then, soon, think, autos will bring people down
to shop and .socialize to our delight.
Papa, the train is coming to our town.

The autos take young folks to the next town,
now for entertainment some take flight.
Will little shops and school now rate renown?

It's said, the tracks may be removed from town;
now, shopping in the city bring delight.
Papa, the train no longer serves our town.
Our little shops and school gone, no renown.

Independence Day Night

It's dusk; up and down Harriman and Elm,
cars parked, they carry blankets, lights and chairs,
all prepared to see the show overwhelm,
as in years past, enjoy the booms and flares.

Though Soldiers' Field is virtually now passe,
we gather in the site to hear the band,
and, most of all, the fireworks display,
celebrating the freedom in our land.

Lively tykes with sparklers on the ground,
popcorn's aroma wafting through the air,
sky filled with intermittent, booming sound,
and South Twin Lake reflects the rockets' glare.

Lined up on Highway "F", the golf course their stage,
cars park, avoiding causing traffic block,
the green slopes the seat for kids of every age.
Across the lake, fiery reflections rock.

Keller Avenue was filled up long ago,
and parking on the side streets hard to find.
Though challenged by crowded streets at time to go
This night will linger long on many a mind.

Of all nostalgic and current special days.
July is gifted with a day of heartfelt glee.
As gratitude and boisterous fun we raise,
that we may be in the Land of the Free.

Matching Tempo

At tempo far too slow, the years dragged by,
the dance all pause and halting reposition.
While young feet long to skip and dance and fly,
they submit to rules and repetition.
Forward at uneven rates, they dance.

Was ever time the partner we could match,
the years in rhythm with the level of our pep?
A sudden change of speed our balance would snatch ,
when we had barely gotten into step.

Dancing partners so unmatched, we close the dance;
some moment wisdom says, "Let go; don't strive."
The tempo moves along. Regret? A chance?
Will like timing come while we're alive?

Could sadness then incite the backward glance?
Saying, "Just throw caution to the wind and dance."

Summer Shower

Almost imperceptible, the drops slide down the pane;
blending to a silken sheet they spread.
Like the flowing of a soft, nostalgic strain,
it calms the chaos stirring in my head.

The roof, a drum head that invites the roll,
or tattoo of the dripping rat-a-tat,
a break, permitting busy ones to loll,
'til workmen return to labor and hard hat

With lifting of nimbus clouds, the butterfly
floats airily on summer's sun-washed breeze.
A patch of blue breaks into leaden sky,
and droplets fall, an afterthought, from trees.

The grassy yard, for you and me, a treat,
when we were small and splashed in roguish play.
Grass and flowers revive their hue and fragrance sweet;
time comes, recoup the order of the day.

County Fair

Have you seen the signs? They say it's coming
The roadside's filled with bright promoting art.
Evidence of the action humming:
4-H, proclaiming head, hands, health and heart.

Homes are buzzing; it's the center,
preparations thorough, being made.
Young and old their exhibits enter,
displaying all their best to make the grade.

Billboards shout out to us, "Come, enjoy it.
Take part with us in your county's pride."
Enthusiasm, interest, you'll employ it;
prepare to win a prize or take a ride.

See outstanding draft horse competition,
grandstand shows designed to wow the crowd.
Youngsters' well honed equine exhibition
causes us to view and cheer out loud.

Cloverbuds and older members turn out,
displays of work they've done throughout the year.
Parents advise, transport them, avoid burnout,
on show day, attend, affirm, and cheer .

Be sure your arm will be tugged on to get you
to the midway where the rides are found,
some thrills, slim chance for a prize, I'll bet you.
Enjoy games, ferris wheel and merry-go-round.

The showing of fine pigs, the cows, and sheep,
fancy chickens, and exotic pets, you'll see.
Small children are so thrilled to get a peep
at animal babies with their family.

Who ever can forget the fragrance of
the bratwurst, the French fries and the barbecue?
Home-baked fruit and cream pies that you love,
served by the sportsman, church, homemakers too.

It's your omni-experience of country life,
with enrichment to keep when it is done.
There's something for kids and man and wife.
So hang onto the memories and the fun.

Rainbow Dream

Over the rainbow with Dorothy I flew;
a world I imagined, all fresh and new.
How marvelous, wondrous, happy, so high.
The lion found courage, much more so than I.

The heart of the tin man was mine, hard as nails,
no tears shed for loss, no pain as one fails.
Scarecrow's sweet mind, illusions held high,
I held them too, and watched them die.

The wizard, perhaps, as empty as dust,
hope unfulfilled, object of misguided trust.
The light puff of smoke when drifting away,
dispelled the confusion, new sight won the day.

So, courage came, the One, faithful, in charge,
surrender: the heart small and hard became large.
Goodbye to illusions; truth we now can find.
the gift of a confident, Spirit led mind.

The rainbow then held each crystalline hue,
centered on a home, safe under the blue.
Compassion grew for the weak and the wrong.
With Dorothy I joined the "dream come true" song.

Thanks for the day

To start another brand new day
and bid the past stay in its place.
Let go and let tomorrow unfold,
when it comes time, there's help to face.

To look around and see what's there,
so blessed with generosity,
having a loving God to care,
beauty createcd, eyes to see.

To think of friends here and afar,
the treasure of hearts dear to share,
opportunities no limits bar,
to give of love and show I care.

For wisdom, daily, from above,
for needs met as I go along,
for knowledge what is done in love,
is full of life and joyous song.

To know a heart that's filled with thanks,
to hear the sharing others give,
adds more to life than cash in banks,
a happy choice with which to live.

To put the day into the hands ,
of One who rates my love and faith,
freed from self will's hindering bands,
to Him who holds each pulse and breath.

Meadows

It's not often they're called meadows any more,
but, when the sun lifts high above the waving grass,
and dew shimmers on the random daisy there,
what but meadow names such peaceful scenes ?

Solid and treasured, the faithfulness of friends,
what else but love can serve to name the steadiness?
A heart that sees the best will look beyond the stress,
accept the chink appearance, unexplained, displays.

They are still called friends if we accept the flaw,
blink at it, knowing we have weakness of our own.
The light of love still gleams if in ourselves,
the tendency to sense the slur is put away.

The meadow blooms with random daisies and wild rye,
while life's shared joys and sorrows wilt away or bloom.

The Height of Summer

The county fair has closed its gates once more,
now black-eyed-susan, and queen Anne's lace line the road.
Department stores with "back to school" outpour;
soon black and yellow buses will drive up to load.

Nostalgia now proceeds from many a heart
those who recall their own school days, or it may be.
they see their little ones--first time--depart,
or high school seniors, soon on their own to be.

The height of summer joined by shorter days,
fosters a burning to reap and complete.
Of two minds, the time is almost gone to laze,
and see if sun can tan the soles of feet.

Though summer time is here a long time still,
let's not waste summer's vista from the hill.

Tribute to a Precious Widow

A force for sobriety and your God,
you;ve cheered your husband with your trust.
Where your assertive feet go and have trod,
nothing squelched your enduring thrust.

So, girl, drive on, trusting in the care
of your Daddy, dear above.
Some day you'll meet your fine man there.
On your walk, you have mega-love.

Remember, everywhere you walk,
and every step you tread,
the best will come through action and talk.
As always, "God rides ahead."

Gift of Today

Today, it is the time to look ahead;
the bumps or flowers met with yesterday,
our eyes may clear, allow our feet to tread,
avoiding stumbling blocks along the way.

It's time to view with expectations nil,
assuming not affliction or a lift,
but let the new day show our Fathers will,
remembering that the present is a gift.

Stower Seven Lakes Trail

It used to be a busy railroad track,
with many wheels that clacked and sang their way,
a whistle blast both musical and abrupt.
Fast passing time declares it "yesterday."

Today, oh, what the plans of men have brought,
a path away from rush of daily life,
where nature shows its beauty and its peace,
and we enjoy a break from stress and strife.

Its name derived from, appropriately ,
a man who promoted caring for the land,
who walked in later years with aid of cane,
seeing in our local efforts what was grand.

So Seven Lakes included in its path,
should you ambitiously your hike extend,
roll past green hills, ponds, tall reeds, and homes,
bright flower beds, drooped willows, river's bend.

Enjoy, like the man who loved this area,
from growing up near Dad's feed mill, and learned
the nature of the area, value of work,
state assembly, then Amery to lead, returned.

Along the trail where many walks now calm,
enhance the days of those who find the time,
whose choice is wholesome out of doors pursuit,
all right to reflect on past when train was prime.

Woodbine

"Virginia creeper," by some it's called,
Its faint red tinge twines up my oak,
hints, "Autumn's on the way." Appalled,
I deny;" it's nothing but a joke."

Small vine, five leaves, as you display
while tendrils tenacious, clutch my tree,
as you with the season's colors play,
I will, "Oh, summer, stay with me."

Unwelcome in my garden row.
but, by the fence row, different thing.
Where trailing vines can wind and grow,
there, habitat unspoiled reigns king.

My oak, next day, my glance, oblique,
bears vines a bit more florid hue.
and now, with every passing week,
fall's signs step surely into view.

Tall sunflowers reach toward their Master;
thistle blooms change to airborne seeds;
"Good-bye," waves many-colored aster,
Woodbine's a string of ruby beads.

Summer Visit

It's a new day once again,
and summer's winding down.
Our children and their children
visit us and our hometown.

The dear horse now gets a workout,
and the river beckons all,
to commune, unbound, with nature,
like old times before the fall.

The backyard boasts a bonfire,
improvised from what we find.
Hot dogs send their rare aroma ,
catch up; relive; see life unwind.

The time could not be ending;
morning's chilled a bit, with dew.
That drive away impending:
blessed the presence; don't be blue.

Don't dwell now on the sorrow;
busy lives await them all.
This time in the tomorrow
will be precious in recall.

Memories of Linda

The time has come to say a last goodbye,
although the years have moved you far away.
Thoughts come of when we chased the butterfly,
picked daisies in the fields of fragrant hay.

The liveliness that bubbled out of you,
the cheer your presence brought us for so long,
as intermittent times allowed our view
to join in chat, ideas shared, and song.

I see you skipping by the hollyhocks,
the wonders of the ocean with your child.
The world has been warmed by your smile and talks,
You linger in our hearts, dear, undefiled.

Idea Catcher

Your shape comes to view unexpectedly;
I try to establish relevance in my mind.
Before your form is clear, you fade amorphously;
a way to retrieve you, I'm at loss to find.

An ally, perhaps, I'm finding in my pen,
when your nebulous appearance comes to me.
I resolve with fervor, when you come again,
I'll capture you to use effectively .

Homeplace

Now silently the lawn recalls
abounding lively romping roiled,
long day until the evening falls.

Sister reveres the sheltering walls,
resting after Dad and mother toiled.
Now silently the lawn recalls.

A teenaged bride, whose first footfalls,
embarked on farming dream unspoiled,
long day until the evening falls.

Young daughter, son, whose memory calls,
the bonds, the growth, as time uncoiled,
Now silently the lawn recalls.

Grandchild, to the homeplace calls,
holidays visits, seldom foiled,
long day, past time the evening falls.

Kaleidoscope, the scene recalls,
memories varied, played or toiled.
Now silently the lawn recalls,
long day until the evening falls.

Illumined

Sometimes it dawns; we are enlightened;
some truth breaks unexpected through.
I, who was uninformed and frightened,
foolishly trailed my point of view.

And, how it came or what produced it,
I do not know or have control,
but some small element of spirit
changed its hue within my soul.

And, will I recall tomorrow,
the touch You brought? I hope I will.
For then, in happiness or sorrow,
in that, I have Your presence still.

And, cheerful thought, I sense Your moving,
not leaving half-full change, though sweet.
That banished doubt, Your presence proving,
You'll continue 'til I am complete.

Fall Festival

While we are laboring over each decision,
contention over certain issues is warm.
Now we anticipate a livelier precision,
as our local band and bands nearby perform.

The atmosphere is changing as the leaves hint;
among the residents is camaraderie.
Some glasses, perhaps grim, adopt a rose tint,
as we prepare to celebrate community.

Young parents for the kiddie parade preparing,
their children morphing into characters cartoon.
Churches and local clubs in days will be sharing
aromas of grilled and baked goods to come soon.

Photos of tots and lovely counterparts appear,
to tempt readers of the paper, speculate,
to whom each image's resemblance is near,
and who will be queen as we celebrate.

Individuals of special worthiness we salute,
as our parade proceeds, glitzy or pastorale,
4-H clubs, Scouts, and candidates en route,
Equine retinue proudly gracing the finale.

Then to the stands those tempting aromas wafted,
and to the rides for which the kids implore.
The art for sale, the quilts so deftly crafted,
Time to enjoy all the day has in store.

Such victories, queen candidates selected,
by businesses and clubs; one has the honor won.
The hidden medal by a lucky one detected,
fun and good memories when these days are done.

Cheap Roll of Tissue

They shifted low in the storage,
the tissue they purchased for thrift,
lest guests would disgruntledly forage,
and find their discovery no gift.

Some family member may find it,
when the supply becomes low,
trusting scratchiness, they won't mind it,
or else in the garbage they'll throw.

Some oldster, recalling newspaper
or catalog used in the past,
may overlook the virtual scraper,
that would leave the more spoiled ones aghast.

Belief that we'd never get to it,
if we kept the supply to the top,
allowed us delay and not do it,
though knowing the dread truth could drop

It's really more the perception ,
of discomfort meeting the skin.
Therefore we persist in deception,
that usage will never begin.

It's favorable trait to be thrifty
if judgment's not shoved to the shelves.
On the other hand it's not nifty,
to find we must use it ourselves.

Accepting Change

In good company, I see I'm not alone;
so many of us grasp the summer close.
Those who make their home the temperate zone
would vainly stay the fading of the rose.

Would winter seem to close in like a brig?
Or, would it flash and, like a diamond, lure?
Just occupy, resigned, until a sprig
of summer's harbinger would then assure?

Until acceptance brings a change of heart,
unyielding, allowing what has been hold sway,
the kind I must admit to be a part,
could, to their detriment, dampen each day.

Nostalgia aside, we journey on,
smiling at summer's familiar cliches,
like "living easy," "balmy breeze.", warm dawn.
Before the coldness, come bright flaming days.

When, taking each day as it comes, gives light.
the ups and downs: late summer, early fall,
escort us through bright day and frosty night;
It's then we lose the dread of winter's call.

The world at large is mostly temperate.
So many must adjust as seasons flow.
one to another. Hail accepting state,
God grants, as into change we go.

Summer Reprieve

It's time, the weatherman forecasts,
to say reluctantly, "Adieu."
this kind of weather never lasts,
this late in the year, though end we rue.

But today we bask in summer mood,
more prized as unexpected gift.
while foliage reminds us what is true:
tomorrow, summer's air will lift.

So let the present for the while
lend beauty both of summer and fall,
and, looking backward with a smile,
"That lovely break was best of all."

The leaves were turning gold and red
while butterflies their graceful flight
enhanced lingering flower's bowed head,
hosted the harvest moon at night.

It's tomorrow we say "Just a while."
to luxury granted at no cost,
remembering, with a secret smile,
"Indian summer will follow frost."

Sunflower's Finale

The sunflower has lost its glory,
its petals turned shriveled and gray.
It's become part of a new story;
usefulness will now see its day.

Its bent posture now seems dry and so dead,
but its dry crown supports a small bird,
whose agile body curves, and his head
reaches down and pecks seeds well matured.

If you would look now at the flower,
lovely would not be the word,
but, altered by time, has the power
to nourish the small hungry bird.

Rock-a-bye Baby and Eagle

My dear man has devised a folktale or two,
adequately embellished with wit.
It seems that the baby in treetop--boo hoo,
abandoned in her cradle did sit.

The birdies, thought, "What can we do?"
"We're too little to feed the small child."
The eagle came by from his nest in the blue,
saying, "How are babes fed in the wild?"

No sooner he thought it than off he did fly,
and plummeted down from the air,
upon a mouse that skittered by,
and with the baby did share.

The moral of this story is , not in a tree,
but rock your dear babes in the house.
Lest a caring eagle your baby should see,
and generously share his mouse.

Practice on the Scraps

I gave her strings and paper scraps,
tried trusting her with glue.
things that were expendable,
to see what she would do.

She asked for colors and pencils,
no problem to provide.
Soon she was busy making things.
I'd ask her to describe.

If you should ask her what it is,
her little face may fall.
so results of scraps, she made a thing
I hung up on the wall.

Our Heavenly Father, looking down,
guides us in some tasks,
to touch His world in some small way.
What have we made, one asks.

We may believe we've hit the mark,
or fumbled miserably,
but like we are with children,
He's smiling tolerantly.

Someday in His kingdom grand,
should we His children be,
it may be that we'll get to do
what He taught us patiently.

Love Getting the Victory

Let me apply the loving ways I've learned,
a smile, a hug, and an uplifting tone;
when I must go, my loved one won't feel spurned,
but good will that I have, conveyed alone.

That the enemy will not the victory steal,
and goodness that is shared will be received ,
oh, grant me the value of the sharing feel,
and guide me to discern what I've believed.

That some objective thought may I apply,
so the enemy won't turn it personally,
to best construe and let the rest go by,
remembering defensiveness is hurting me.

Yes, let the smile, pat, hug the parting words,
be there as I to needful things depart,
that I may glean the best of what I've heard,
to be again receptive in my heart.

Dishwasher Principles

I like to get the dishwasher well filled,
capacity completely utilized
economy of the mass application,
in efficient array that I have prized.

Again, I am finding my kind partner,
who likes to see impurities omitted,
as quickly as can be, so my procedure
works only if I can be quick-witted.

Where can I conceal the offending vessels
until there are enough to fill the space?
I'll save water and detergent just by waiting,
but chances are, with egg upon my face.

The reason this is hard is, the dishwasher,
was the place the dishes could be hid,
relieving the counter of the clutter.
Now, when they're in there, they are quickly did.

The only remedy that I can think of,
is to be thankful for the work that's done.
The problem is gone, in the eye, a blink of.
Appreciate that diligent someone.

Vast Gifts

The shining seas, the land that lies between
how vast the richness that we have received,
each parcel endowed with awesome scene,
we could not through reason have conceived.

The harvest fields unveiled before our eyes,
the river flashing as it outruns stones,
the pictures formed by clouds in azure skies
the bird above cries out in unbound tones

And we, with eyes and heart equipped to soar,
partake of nature's bounty, carefree grace.
endowed, as well, a hand to take, and more,
to find rapport within another's face.

The Father God, who made the sky and pond,
grants us both awe and aptitude to bond.

Voyage that Found Our Land

To leave the sunny shores of Italy,
prepared to face head on the perils unknown,
the obstacles, not only treacherous sea,
but convincing a brave crew and trust of throne.

Saying "perseverant" can't tell half the worth;
in ancient times, to lead on ocean wide.
On small sailing crafts, to travel half the earth,
forethought to prepare supplies, be the guide.

The innovative, intrepid, drive, we praise,
conquering fear and dangers of the waves,
conveying encouragement through endless days,
between small sailing ships, some fearing graves.

Pages of history attempt to tell
of how the undaunted venture met their goal.
Though not knowing the destination they braved "hell,
and high waters," so real each rock and shoal.

These days, we see a human with his flaws,
but. lest we discount the accomplishment,
remember we have gained a land with laws,
that still strive to procure fair government.

So, let's salute the ones who persevere,
in finding, in maintaining, our dear land,
and strive to keep the light of freedom here,
confer on all equality for which we stand.

Audit or Edit

I laugh at myself, mixing audit and edit,
a course of study that I could pursue.
For my age, I am seeking waiving of credit;
guess attempting to edit won't do.

So, if I choose, am accepted, and do,
take part in this study with audit,
I'll be more accepted as I see it through,
if I learn, not amend, but applaud it.

Happy Years

I did the title first, a real faux pas,
but I am celebrating those Happy years with you,
the day we joined in love and adhered to law,
and promised to be loyal, affectionate and true.

Well, you have surely met the hopes and plan,
affection and inspiration, done your part.
I am happy that you are the man
I chose the share my life and give my heart.

So, on this day called anniversary,
I send my thanks with hug and kiss or two,
celebrating these years, dear to me,
that I am privileged to share with you.

Newspaper and Radio

Informative, timely, you keep us involved,
if we desire to take part,
community issues, unfolded or solved,
benefit to the commerce or heart.

Innovative, resourceful the city fares,
with its citizens and proactive guides.
Where a decline appears, new vision shares
preservation and teamwork besides.

We'll rise to the cause when footing looks grim;
our attention is called to the need.
Many can accomplish when chances are slim,
accurately informed we'll proceed.

We see it in action, efforts' results,
the theater presenting once more,
entertainment, variety, social contacts,
nostalgia and new blood take the fore.

Municipal progress, attainment for all,
can't materialize out of the blue.
Being informed, we may rise to the call,
not say sadly, "If only we knew."

Observing Dissimilar Days

When spooky time and standard time,
clocks turned back, coincide.
At a loss what to say or rhyme,
either way, a slippery ride.

So, quickly to address the pair:
the spooky night comes first,
with little goblins, princesses fair;
then onto us the tricky time will burst.

It's eerie at the movies,eerie on the street,
where little pirates, movie stars and ghosts,
venture out for parties, trick or treat,
delighting prepared and waiting hosts.

Wind sounds strange and weird, in the branches bare,
drivers are warned: pedestrians observe.
They may be short and bouncy, silver frizzy hair.
Remember, they're excited; watch each curve.

The advantage of this coincidence,
if we could say that one might be,
turning the clock back makes some sense,
makes up for time out--spooky glee.

The next plus for one whose sleep is dear,
the blankets a comfort in this clime,
we gain an hour of morning this time of year;
we turn our clocks back, adopt standard time.

Secret, Sprightly Squirrels

Leaves seem to slink and slither up the tree;
then downward, they swoop in a sudden rush.
Out on the branch, with oscillating glee,
then pause their action, as abrupt, the hush.

The tree, alive with movement fascinating,
reveals the perpetrator of the trick.
Two bright eyes, then six or eight, not waiting,
plummet, paws scarcely touching bark or stick.

A flick of tails, debonair as knight's plumes,
a scamper tousles unsuspecting grass,
like elves in lavish furry costumes,
they prance and romp, so nimble as they pass.

Once more, without a warning, they assail it,
the leaves quake again with swishing sound.
Their covert attack,unmasked, they hail it;
a shower of acorns punctuates the ground.

Progress and Perfection

It's progress, not perfection,
a watchword for our life,
improves the drawn complexion,
glow, relaxed, relief from strife.

accepting the day as it come,
an antidote for stress.
An aura of elan just hums,
trumps hairdo or new dress.

If, when it's perfect only,
will you put forth the hand,
you'll find your day quite lonely,
unattainable demands.

So, like the happy person ,
who lessens the distress,
she laughs about perfection,
as she finds she can progress.

Minnesota Maller

You may have heard of the Missouri Mauler
In wrestling rings, he really made his mark;
I know a gal he couldn't match or follow,
as she leaves her impact, shopping dawn 'til dark

They call her the Minnesota Maller;
in all the shops, she really makes a haul.
The merchants together cheer and holler,
when she comes to Minneapolis or St. Paul.

She makes black Friday seem a puff of smoke;
the early sales, she makes it to them all.
Her SUV should be a semi truck, no joke,
by the time she leaves the shopping mall.

Outlet-- another word that turns her on,
boutique--a place to have a lavish ball.
The clicking of her credit card from dawn,
to closing time in Wally World beats all.

Wisconsin, eyes turn green when she comes back
to have scored all those bargains would enthrall.
Let's try to lure her home to spend her jack,
back here in a Wisconsin shopping mall.

She would be one of the Wisconsin Mallers;
in Milwaukee, Madison, even St. Croix Falls.
She could scatter all her plastic dollars,
as she frequents Wisconsin shopping malls.

Sharing With an Older Friend

How many times I used to tell you of my chores,
how busy the routines along the way.
And you would say you wished that life was yours,
for you were old and at a loss to fill your day.

When I'd feel down, I knew that I could call,
and you would welcome talk of kids and yard.
When you were able to garden, you'd recall,
before time on stiffened hands made it too hard.

Now you and dear old lady friends have passed.
It won't be long, I suppose, 'til they call me,
though, now the hours just don't seem to last,
long enough the end of work to see.

It makes me count my blessings, day by day,
that health enables me, enjoy my mode,
and friends all ages gathered on the way,
stand by me and I them along life's road.

If unwelcome infirmity sets in,
busy-ness of my young friends will seem a boon,
I'll recall how with older friends and kin,
it lifted me to know I'd cheered an afternoon.

Who Are We?

Our styles--explain some of whom we are;
like spaghetti, it's said,women twine around,
convoluted paths like spaghetti--seems bizarre,
while men compartmented like waffle squares seem bound.

Well. generalize! Won't fully tell the trend,
for sometimes between waffle sections flow,
and seep a forward motion without end.
Spaghetti types may in shell shapes know

Can it be, a force within each one,
although a tendency we can allege?
Some race to the essence before it's known;
others unearth truth by chipping at the edge.

Sometimes, in acceptance standing back,
through what seems to be distance, rapport comes,
and what appears to one dissimilar, lack,
when grown familiar, why the friendship hums.

Oh, textures of the farm and city street,
of mine and sea and plain and mountain high,
the heart in each inhabitant shall beat,
with God-given uniqueness, beneath the sky.

Colors Exchanged

Oh, Gift of Vision, in its aspect bright,
allowing me the light and shades and hues.
To take a pen and of its glory write,
color both to rest in and to use.

What color bathed the land from which I flew.
all red and gold and bronze, it thrilled my eyes.
The color dropped and whirled, and I saw through,
what lay within, revealed, subdued and hidden prize.

The vibrant green of grapevine on the gate,
turned yellow in response to shorter days,
and, displaying scrolls, its artwork intricate,
again, says sweet goodbye to autumn ways.

Like the nest the eagle strips of ease,
the neutral colors all around me say,
the scene no longer screened by leafy trees,
it's time to bundle up or fly away.

Should we look back, the crystal snow piles high;
it's laughter we remember on the hill.
Gloomy clouds foretell snow in gray sky;
both nostalgia and shivers memories fill.

Colors change as we pass above the land,
all green and edged by lapping waters' foam.
The drift of snow exchanged for sunny strand;
Mixed feelings fade, OK, a while to roam.

Tradition(s) of Thanksgiving

"Is this tracking snow?" Big, shy brown eyes
glance at cold and fluffy layering.
White, land is shrouded in surprise;
other eyes see, eagerly surveying.

Other signs of the season: in the town,
Decorations, prepared with lights.
Deer hunters, not to let us down,
before the hunt, trim for holiday nights.

Jay's raucous call, squirrels' agile swish,
stir lingering, rustling red oak leaves,
Large, keen ears inclined, catch snap or squish,
to escape danger such snow weaves.

Sparse screen, twigs, bronze-green junipers,
shelter the quarry, silent, still,
while quite another scene occurs,
in the bright, warm house atop the hill.

Bright blaze orange jackets, guns and boots,
prompt orders from women of the home.
"On Thanksgiving, it's all right if one shoots
a buck, but at dinner, Don't you roam.�

The warmth of laughing family,
boys and men, some of the women too,
join this special annual levity,
thankful hearts blend with conquest brought through.

Some big, brown eyes , the Sunday next,
tiptoe on pointed hoofs now spared,
with antlers tossed, no ill effects,
the passing danger, calmly fared.

The less unbothered buck or doe,
that graced a mantle, freezer laid by,
adds memories, fellowship and glow,
for those not venison fans, another try.

The pioneers who set the pace,
expressing for plenty, gratitude,
tradition holds through time and place ,
expressed in family, prayer, and food.

Vain Search or Triumph

What thorny search for what is lost,
or that which never has been found.
In many efforts pay the cost;
the knack or answer is not found.

Is it an object or a thought?
A way to grasp the hidden goal?
More we desire that it is caught,
what's out of reach or our control.

We struggle on and test a clue,
in obscure crannies of the mind,
in our surroundings, what or who,
can aid in the attempt to find?

Like a release from knotty bands,
comes the answer--someone knew,
or saw the object that our hands,
in vain had tried to grasp or do.

Oh, happy day! The search is done,
and onward we can now progress.
Life now is meaningful and fun.
We say, "Thank God! Oh yes, oh yes."

Christmas in Two Places

Could I be in two places at one time
what wonderful rare favor that would be.
As I plan for a season near sublime,
no preference contrary would I see.

That as I dance beneath the tropic moon,
still close in heart to those who meet up north,
I'd sense no longing for the frost's festoon;
my alter ego would with them go forth.

The Christmas holiday, as in the past,
is spent with love, in the flesh or heart,
with those to whom my bond of love clings fast,
near as my breath or many miles apart.

So I rejoice in the Gift then given,
that makes each occasion time for joy,
the wealth of love here, promise of Heaven,
so plans with hope and pleasure we employ.

Who would have thought my dear would ask a dance,
to Christmas music in the tropic park?
So, though I'm in just one place, what a chance,
to live a dream, as day fades into dark.

Oh, with my loved ones whose Christmas is white,
my hopes and wishes flow in harmony ,
as we share the Gift God gave that night,
anticipate spring when each face I'll see.

Our Gift for Christmas

The lives, deprived, and of loved ones bereft,
more touching at this time when joy abounds,
to those, it seems, whose hopes and dreams have left,
there is taunting in the season's happy sounds.

So, like the troubadour who bids them come,
let the warmth of Christmas that we feel
gently reach out and touch the hurting home,
sharing kindness, goods, and trusting God to heal.

The very Christ who came to set us free,
Who met the world in stable rude and bare,
cause for merry celebration, gifts and tree,
brings hope; may we be part and show we care.

Yes, light the tree; sing joyous songs of praise,
and share our heart and home with those who lack,
remembering the gift of life's eternal days.
To hurting ones, love, help bring Christmas back.

The Portrayal

Here is the scene at Bethlehem town,
the Father in heaven with love looking down.
Here are young children, come to portray
things that happened on Christmas eve and next Day.

Here is the governor who decreed,
each to his ancestral town must proceed.
Here is the donkey all burdened down,
bringing mother with child to Bethlehem town.

Here is the inn where the family sought,
a place to give birth, that could not be bought.
Here is the stable with manger so rude,
wrapped with swaddling cloths, lay the pure Son of God.

Here is the mother, with tender care,
her worthy husband , who scandal did dare.
Here is the angel, who announced and assured,
they were to care for our Savior, the Lord.

Here, far from town, on dark, lonely hill,
where shepherds watch, each his shift to fulfill.
Here are the angels, proclaiming out loud,
while, in dazzling light, shocked shepherds bowed.

Here's the glad sound, "Peace to the world."
host of marvelous angels, wings all unfurled.
Here is the rocky path to the town,
while shepherds ran, one to watch stayed around.

Here is the star making trail bright as day,
on the path to the manger where the babe lay.
These are the shepherds with homage to bring,
then rushed to spread news of the newborn babe king.

Here are the wisemen, following that star,
to King Herod came, after traveling far.
Here is the angel warning them go
back a different way, wicked king should not know.

These are the sinners like you and like me,
hoping not to be like the proud pharisee,
but only can make it with God on our side,
God sent his son with us to abide.

Here are the families, watching each child,
portraying the savior and mother so mild.
Here are the tears that dampen the eyes
of us who are saved by God's gift from the skies.

Lawful But Not Convenient

A curious description in Holy writ,
some things are lawful, not convenient.
Applying to life situations has it,
allowed, but they are not expedient.

To share with verve, as the issue burns,
but attention giving takes a place.
Finding we have not allowed taking turns
shows up in falling of listener's face.

The conversational art brings rapport,
when one to another, our ear is lent.
One who seems willing to wait may get sore.
Ignoring is lawful, not convenient.

The giving and taking of thoughts bring us close;
expressions of humor or pathos are shared.
It's not only lawful, but sweet as a rose,
when mutual attention has shown that we cared.

New Year 2015

Like a carefully done weaving,
like a garment deftly knit,
made of joy, acceptance, grieving,
made of weariness and wit.

Looking back across the stitches,
is the weaving free of error?
Have we glossed over the glitches?
Can our viewing risk the mirror?

With a challenge to improve it,
we invite another year.
Will we dread and drudge or love it?
Our old habits cling or clear?

As the world around us changes,
just a little every day,
what hold firm, what rearranges?
A guide we need to point the way.

Without turn to self denouncing,
see life's possibilities,
give discouragement a trouncing,
"just one day", we'll live with ease.

No need to carry past days' burdens,
or focus on tomorrow's block,
Blow away the hurts with pardons;
"Let go" may our hearts unlock.

A forgiving One has gone before us,
paid the debts if we'll accept.
Let the Father's love restore us,
fears, offenses, intercept.

With the sweetness of forgiveness,
amended snags, missed stitches left.
Let the new year have real newness,
New in knit or warp and weft.

Losing or Gaining Strength

I surrendered all my power,
reacted to your presumed blow.
That very moment, very hour,
put you above and me, below.

When I couldn't rise above it,
victory slipped right through my hand,
chose not to meet the challenge and love it,
missed life event that could be grand.

Results of actions came to light;
I may have said you were to blame.
My chance to grow slipped out of sight;
flawed perspective was a shame.

Should I let your actions rule me?
Should I see you as the cause?
My own view of things can fool me;
to growth and learning, give applause.

There is One, the blame assuming;
though, responsible, we view with shame,
not to others charge presuming.
If we let go, Jesus takes the blame.

With an act of love, forgiving,
opens the mind to see what's true.
a Teacher, Guide, for life we're living,
an answer brings to me and you.

What Will They Think Of Next

In this world of techy gadgets,
conversation loses ground.
They will text to send a message,
although they are right around.

Well, perhaps this curious practice,
youngsters are prone to employ,
would solve the receiving problem,
that older folks find can annoy.

Let's go ahead, equip our cellphone,
a function that will allow for text.
Our communication problem,
would be lessened, new skill flexed.

On the other hand, the money,
to provide another phone,
and the minutes' cost for texting,
might affect the budget zone.

I once thought of a pad to write on,
jotting points to get across.
That would cheaply serve the purpose;
though, old-fashioned, what's the loss?

It reminds me of a small boy,
fiddling with uncles' car door.
Seeing the manual window handle,
he asked what that could be for.

Of course, uncle said to run the window.
Like my writing pad or cell phone text.
He exclaimed in shocked amazement,
Saying,"What will they think of next?"

Snowbird Trade-off

Hurray! The flowers in the planters didn't freeze.
The jet stream dropped south, but didn't do its worst.
Schools in Indiana closed, not snow, but frigid breeze.
Eau Claire took measures that pipes wouldn't burst.

The insects in Wisconsin take their annual break,
while in the southland they maintain activity.
The maintenance folks attend to park and lake,
so tourists won't pack up their bags and flee.

Snowbirds, who do not brave the winter's cold,
sometimes grumble when the high is fifty-three.
In the springtime, when the sun its path has rolled,
north enough so that frozen lakes are free,

Snowbirds return to fight the insect pests once more,
having missed the months the landscape was pristine.
No buzzing was present over pond and shore.
They overlook the downside, enjoy the scene.

So, when they are again in northern states,
cheering, "Hurray! The flowers didn't freeze."
Being back with hometown neighbors worth the wait,
the "best of both worlds" takes adjustment and esprit.

Just the Fringes

Oh, bless your name, dear Father,
Who grants us through these days,
though so frail in understanding,
to see the fringes of Your ways.

We perceive in part Your message,
what You've done, both veiled and plain.
The telling of Your word and deeds,
this world would not contain.

But, even, Lord, in the fringes,
of Your ways and of Your thought,
there has been enough to show us,
our flawed life from destruction bought.

How Your words and ways the enemy,
whose aims Your power can singe,
with the fire and spirit that makes us free,
though we've only seen the fringe.

Figs and Faith

Prophets of old a truth of life relayed;
the riches in our bank or house or lands,
do not spare us from ever being afraid.
Security and peace not in our hands.

Like Habakkuk, when the harvest failed,
when the bloom of fig trees shrank and fell,
and hope was not in harvest to be hailed,
he still praised God and trusted Him as well.

Though figuratively, our fig trees bloom,
when for us, true want and need are rare,
compared to world wide want, we have much room,
for gratitude so far beyond our share.

Where war and pestilence the world abound,
and plenty is not dreamed of by the whole.
For us, what peace, abundance, too, are found.
What bit of sharing aid can be our goal?

Like Habakkuk praised God when means were slim,
and hope lay only in the hand of God,
can we, for our plenty, give thanks to Him,
and share with those who less affluent plod.

When our favorite plans seem come to naught,
when in tomorrow seems no better day,
could be changed perspective, view, and thought,
allow us, like Habakkuk, praise Him anyway.

Healing of a Life

You were on the icy graveyard hill,
each skinny, trembling knee,
faltered, no strength my frame to fill.
Yet, unseen, You stood by me.

I looked for You to take the pain.
to guide me through the night.
I thanked you when I seemed to gain.
goals lost, I mourned my plight.

While traveling on, some tears, some smiles
Each phase, Your presence kept.
I went this way, that way, all the miles;
Angels watched me as I slept.

Not only when the sun shines warm,
Your work in lives is felt.
But, Oh, Surprise! right in the storm,
Your deepest grace is dealt

When I was ready to receive
You stood by patiently,
'til, with Your grace, I could believe,
Your wiil is best for me.

You began to kindly teach my heart,
the serene ways of Your will.
When You touched me, not to depart,
You healed that icy hill.

Address Book

I sought among the shadows of my handbag,
and in the dim recesses of my car,
bedroom, daunting, resistant as a sandbag,
and more convoluted too, by far.

My shelves, perused with ardor near beyond me,
beneath furniture where dust bunnies dwell.
I asked my friends, of searching mode, unbond me.
but , over me, a cloud desponent fell.

My hopes then lifted, when on cyberspace,
I realized much missing info lay.
Much of my lost data they could replace,
if dear ones could find the time and way.

Now heroes, in my eyes, rose to the cause,
and some addresses on emails appeared.
There are a few who through injured forepaws
or something, still are lacking, as I feared.

Should you be among the non-responsive,
could you wake my information slumber,
by sending your information that's by-gone-sive,
even go overboard and include phone number.

Then, among the shadows of my purse,
a glow of new-filled address book will shine.
I'll avoid doing bad or worse.
Thanks to you, all filled, it will be mine.

A Villanelle of a Day Spent Well

The shimmer of the ripples on the bay,
safe for an outing, condition a light chop,
You're sharing your domain from home to quay.

Disclosed now, the temper of the day,
great for sightseeing, and perhaps to shop.
traverse the shimmering ripples on the bay.

Joining, by your hospitality to play,
fascinated by birds, water or treetop,
sharing your domain from home to quay.

With guides, exploring wonders of the day,
see the pelicans right angle dive and drop,
in the shimmer of the ripples on the bay.

Sighting dolphins, then more; see them play,
leaping, diving, tails wave as they drop,
sharing your domain from home to quay.

How can we express thanks for the day?
Reluctant for the enchantment to stop,
the shimmer of the ripples on the bay,
sharing your domain from home to quay.

Gift of Golden Thread

Thin thread of warmth, sun's rays slip through the clouds;
the roiling mass resists the forward way
smog from yesterday in unfolding shrouds;
strands of gold blend in the fabric of the day.

Gone, the panorama of the stars,
the moon that shared its friendly glowing light,
the atmosphere turned stormy; fear was ours,
as thunder beat the meter of dark night.

It is then that hope is challenged, and trust,
the violence of the world crowds on our heart.hint of malevolence in every gust,
our surroundings in early hours impart.

If, then, the violence brewing in the air,
can touch our thoughts with a grim point of view,
could it be, though unchanged surroundings are,
with brightening of the air, our hopes renew.

The threads of warmth that enter in life's plans,
despite conflicts without, disputes within,
strands of gold woven in the day's short span,
promptings to arise, and try begin.

Good morning

Good morning, my dear and thoughtful bear,
in your absence , you are on my mind.
I hope your day brings wonder, joy, to spare,
and, in your efforts, satisfaction find.

And, as I move along I hope to be
some use, for the consideration you have lent,
that in my time and yours we'll see,
the Lord will show us both time that's well spent.

Anticipating Seasons

Wee pussy willow bud still hiding in dark case,
untidy squirrel's nest of oak leaves action sees.
With more direct sun's rays a hint of change takes place;
shy doe tracks deepen in the snow; young bring weight increase.

Draped weeping willows, yellow-green engage the eye.
Indented trails, car tracks in new snow, show a thawing mode.
Is that a robin, oversoon, longs home to fly?
Such subtle change is seen along a quiet country road.

Inherent in a certain kind of heart and mind,
at least, of like background, surroundings, growing up ways,
anticipating nature's season change to find,
unfolding of tomorrow in the sun's roused rays.

Valentine Man

He has given substance to the word, "astound"
as he, with merry secrecy prepared surprise,
assembled special details all around,
the items that would dearly please the eyes.

The furry figures she had made did greet,
and even condiments that she preferred,
to touch her heart and knock her off her feet,
as lights-on her still sleepy.vision stirred...

Would you not think that flowers are enough,
an expression of love on this special day?
But no. Into wee hours of nighttime stuff,
he prepared the toast to make the way.

The way to the heart in thoughtful, caring plan,
of quirky beauty, special to the spouse,
Would she not say all year, "What a man!"
viewing that scene in their little Florida house.

Difficult Trade-off

The Gulf in April, oh what bliss,
warm air held back by winter front,
is banished, but that phase I'll miss.
For a different pleasure, shunt.

Bright sunny time of student's break,
desirable of all the year,
I'll miss--can't eat and have the cake.
Wisconsin's April will appear.

I know the pussy willow waits,
crouching, hunkered in its dark case,
dry vines twisted around the gates,
will wake; white blood roots claim their place.

I'd miss Mayflowers lifting leaves,
to show their innocent pastels,
and how the mystical light weaves,
a fairyland in morning dells.

Streams rippling by dry reeds and rocks,
too cool to wade in, tease the ear,
laugh; ice and snow have shed their frocks,
and dance to know that April's here.

I'd miss the spring show, progress laud,
the gathering at local sites.
With Wisconsin's waking up time, awed,
I'll by-pass Florida's balmy nights.

News and Living

Airwaves buzzing with atrocities,
national debt is at a record high.
Virtue is exchanged for fun and ease.
what future is there for you and I?

Like the fog, dense in early morning,
vision is askew and vaguely dim.
Do we heed or just avoid the warning,
see possibilities as gone or grim.

A new day begins in our small corner;
what difference we can make is small,
but do we set ourselves as scorner,
that small efforts may a woe forestall?

Beyond the goals of men with might in mind,
there are those who seek the common good.
Every wind however turned can find,
some purposing to uplift if they could.

A step we take and then a step ahead,
to treat with love the circle that is here.
While all around us whirls cause for dread,
trust in God and hope may touch our little sphere.

Nurture's Song

Beneath the shelter of an all-embracing hand,
I bask in strains of earthly realms and spheres.
marvel at the expanse of life and land,
how peace can reign among fighting and fears.

Beneath the canopy of Father's will ,
I find the shade to quell strife's scorching heat,
cause inner conflict turbulent be still,
take up, of this day, the measured beat.

Within the matrix, He has bid me grow,
while I see but the step that lies ahead,
it may be in the process I will know,
with gratitude, the Hand that held and led.

Creation Purpose and Beauty

The swan, whose graceful arching neck,
reflects on the pool a bird ballet,
the pelican with his jackknife dive,
creation's diversity, display.

Hey, beaver, with your slapping of tail,
you warn your young of peril's approach,
and plain, unobtrusive mother quail,
covert behavior babies coach.

The chicks endangered in hiding spot,
a brave little mother foils with a sham,
fake injury, drawing away the despot
then seeing them out of the jamb.

Camouflage, nature's trusty defense,
the spots on the fawn like leafy shade
green of the frog in lily pads dense,
brown, bumpy toad midst clods, eyes evade.

The brilliant male songbird graces the bough
drawing the eyes from the nest snugly hid,
brooded by a mother He'd plainly endow,
protect egg and offspring, harm forbid.

Beauty around us each feature has use,
coloration and form meeting need.
What wonder, what brilliance: more, who could choose?
Our Creator, aesthetics and purpose exceed.

Amery Spring Show

Wonders of beauty and practical use,
revealed to keen folks of the town,
innovations and service to choose,
cordial greetings, developments crown .

The whispers of winter, crystal and white,
give way to spring's song, spanking new.
Old and young gather to welcome the sight,
neighbors meet, opportunities view.

In past times, the "Heigh-ho, come to the fair,"
gives way to new features announced.
so, as we gather in spring's winsome air,
we see winter's old doldrums trounced.

The theater, restaurants, each thriving youth group,
give the budding season new verve.
Trusty establishments keep us in the loop,
bring improvements to patrons they serve.

So, we open the doors, swing wide the gate,
show each newly developed offering.
The time is here we all celebrate.
The city says, "Hello, Spring."

Longevity

So, life is short, but, ah, what's new?
Life was short, when at sixteen,
how to retrieve the slight then dealt,
what thought and word turned right again?

Time is short, and life moves on,
and, just to live and find the way.
New blossoms where the old is gone:
Running to just define the day.

Defined? Only learn how to live.
And what is started and complete?
Recorded what we take and give,
what lies unfinished at our feet.

So, life is short and races on,
and to make sense put into words.
Just take a look, what little done,
and only passing time records.

Well, bitter taken with the sweet;
The outcome, no time to report.
The marks left by our passing feet,
only agree that life is short.

Gifts of Sharing

It's such a gift to hear the thoughts of dear ones,
to get their views that come from nowhere else,
to carry that connection as the day runs,
like the quenched thirst at refreshing wells.

To hear those lovely shared thoughts is a treasure,
like a beam of sunshine, song of bird;
blending with the deeply heartfelt treasure:
with welcome, what a gift, too, to be heard.

Expressing a Good-natured Compliment

I called it shameless flattery,
a description undeserved
giving a compliment to me,
tongue in cheek and not reserved

I laughed self-consciously at first,
not sure just how to take it.
But then decided, at the worst,
this is what I choose to make it.

As time went by, I faked a fuss;
Didn't mean it for a minute
I soon held it dear because
I knew a good heart in it.

Applaud or Edit

I laugh at myself over audit and edit;
A course of study I could pursue.
Although I consider waiving the credit,
I don't think attempting to edit would do.

So, if I choose, am accepted, and do,
take part in this study as audit,
I'd be more accepted as i see it through,
if I should learn, not amend, but applaud it.

Red Oaks Ending the Winter

You can almost hear them laugh, fluttering, frolicking,
spinning and dancing in the air,
celebrating the atmosphere, jaunty and rollicking,
staunch through the winter, now without care.

Red oak leaves hunkered down while their fellows went spinning;
weathered the worst that winter could deal.
Now they are reveling like contenders bold winning,
as through the spring air they merrily wheel.

"What's the joy?" you say, "Hitting the ground to decay?"
Have you never ushered the new?
With spring's other branches, their leaf buds display,
a new crop, stalwarts to see the year through.

Spring, as We Expected

I can tell, as you probably knew,
I've experienced seasonal change,
record high for this month just new,
but still, as we can see, within range.

The thunder and lightening
brought rain and hail.
Don't let it dampen the brightening;
spring will not fail.

Oh, no, it's forties and fifties for highs,
hopefully, sun may prevail in the skies.
Oh well, to come to this state, it's the cost.
a few more days, it will be snow and frost.

Hats Off to Spring Show

It's hats off in celebration.
Another springtime struts its stuff.
salute Amery's innovations,
industrial equipment, that enough?

Home and garden, recreation,
our attention draw and hold.
Aesthetics, sports,and education,
are addressed, wellness extolled.

Meet your neighbor in spring weather;
step inside and take a bite,
hockey association get-together,
providing funds with food just right.

Benefits for pet and livestock,
features helpful, timely, new.
Clinic, EMS, nurses, Doc,
healthcare for our people too.

That last remark with tongue in cheek,
suggests I close this solo chat.
But remember, in less than a week,
spring show comes; take off our hat.

Canine Companions

Airedale or schnauzer, called Towser or Bowser,
by our sides have cheerfully walked,
or trotted and looped, nuzzled our trouser,
voiced not a dispute as we talked.

Retriever or springer, hunter, back-bringer,
hounds' baying, the quarry locate.
Then by the fire, they don't imply, "liar",
when stories of hunts escalate.

Chihuahua or dachsie, they demonstrate moxie,
to get the attention they need.
Trying to please you, with pup-eyes appease you,
when they've done a forbidden deed.

Your pet's daily needs--go get the leads,
can be a positive aid;
before the soft couch allows you to slouch,
aging may well be delayed.

So, let your loving pup just buoy you up;
your newspaper bring or just chew .
To that doggie friend, let us commend,
"There's no one more special than you."

Cherishing Each Other

What is it about mornings,
each one a different gift?
What promises or warnings,
of bonding or of rift?

What is it about caring,
that makes us see the best?
How our dear one is faring:
reassured, there's hope and rest.

What is this special treasure,
when doubt and blame we bar?
Cherishing love the measure
of each other as we are.

What makes the day go spinning,
being subject to the will,
of One who guides each inning,
the outcome to fulfill.

How, side by side, though absent,
but in the mind and heart,
our dreams and doings as present,
we share as not apart.

So, in the Father's presence,
though nearby or afar,
cherish simile or difference,
of each other as we are.

Table of Contents

Diversity of Value
Estrangement
Hope
Delay of Spring Weather
Dream Town
Can't Bear the Intrusion
Receipt Versus Defeat
Attempting to Please
Flag of Honor
A Daily Prayer
Serving Birdies
Demise of a Folk Song
Infinite Father
Shelter and Remedy
Feast of the Day
Unincorporated
Independence Day Night
Matching Tempo
Summer Shower
County Fair
Rainbow Dream
Thanks for the day
Meadows
The Height of Summer
Tribute to a Precious Widow
Gift of Today
Stower Seven Lakes Trail
Woodbine
Summer Visit
Memories of Linda
Idea Catcher
Homeplace
Illumined
Fall Festival
Cheap Roll of Tissue
Accepting Change
Summer Reprieve
Sunflower's Finale
Rock-a-bye Baby and Eagle
Practice on the Scraps
Love Getting the Victory
Dishwasher Principles
Vast Gifts
Voyage that Found Our Land
Audit or Edit
Happy Years
Newspaper and Radio
Observing Dissimilar Days
Secret, Sprightly Squirrels
Progress and Perfection
Minnesota Maller
Sharing With an Older Friend
Who Are We?
Colors Exchanged
Tradition(s) of Thanksgiving
Vain Search or Triumph
Christmas in Two Places
Our Gift for Christmas
The Portrayal
Lawful But Not Convenient
New Year 2015
Losing or Gaining Strength
What Will They Think Of Next
Snowbird Trade-off
Just the Fringes
Figs and Faith
Healing of a Life
Address Book
A Villanelle of a Day Spent Well
Gift of Golden Thread
Good morning
Anticipating Seasons
Valentine Man
Difficult Trade-off
News and Living
Nurture's Song
Creation Purpose and Beauty
Amery Spring Show
Longevity
Gifts of Sharing
Expressing a Good-natured Compliment
Applaud or Edit
Red Oaks Ending the Winter
Spring, as We Expected
Hats Off to Spring Show
Canine Companions
Cherishing Each Other