a vision to enjoy,
breathe
rustic and pristine.
with an ounce of curiosity
I dream,
what stories are held within-
is this beauty, as she stands,
left for the taking,
or is someone keeping watch?
left to her own devises,
her strength must continue, remain hopeful in winter.
alone amongst the blanket of snow, she screams forlorn,
however you see her and she remains yours.
might she be worth the risk?
dreams surround a homesteading such as this,
no amount of work could persuade them to leave.
his heart was given so long ago, and the farm has held on ever since.
the birds sang quite rightly the day she pulled in,
the tire was giving her fits.
when he took his cap off and extended his hand,
his eyes caused hers to lift, amused by the pink shade of shy she wore with her smile, he let off on his farmer’s tight grip.
hard became harder as sunsets created do-overs, and laughter filled the crisp winter air.
facts remained, but pleasure pursued as two strangers became one another,
encouraging life to come tumbling after.
hardened by what he’d seen; by life,
the reflection behind his eyes created a flutter within me
like a bee for honey, I was willing to work and eager.
I remained close.
Structured and protective, with experience as his guide, I longed for his reverence.
his strength I devoured silently but wanted to wrap myself in for all to see.
like many, I wasn’t chosen.
life is a mystery and voices often confused, so I remained hopeful – just in case.
yet the determination in his heart is wide, and he has much to attend to
and so it goes.
Winter waves hello
as Autumn nods goodbye,
life is complicated
causing us to ardently ponder who am I.
Earth is round and life is ever after,
but questions often birth discrepancy,
so a refresh is in order,
dormant becomes necessity.
Memories are mounting
and wistful becomes normal,
up ahead are life moments to cherish,
yet this golden causes pause over what nature has nourished.
Lips bring a smile to life – awaken
as the sun begins to set,
twilight, a comforting picture,
and this prairie points West.
Imperative for growth to flourish appropriately,
It’s a sinking feeling when the time arrives,
And one we rarely want to admit to, because normalcy is comfortable.
Sometimes change masks itself as unknown, but we know.
One gut-wrenching pull at a time convinces us of its necessity, and the digging continues.
Beauty is stifled by its surroundings, however, she clings to what slowly kills her.
The world is full of what should be if we lean in: find grounding and settle.
Surely the weeding ends,
And the tools go back to the shelf.
glows does the moon
beyond the branches, which held verdant prisms of summertime,
rich with thoughts of what could be come daylight.
a star just to the north points towards a path I’m unsure of
but regrettably stare into,
the cold air touches the tears I shed for the prayers I’ve said,
nothing makes sense as the fairytale ends.
night, oh night, you shout at me so,
what shall come of my young soul; trapped in a body at the peak of her age
clouds bustle by, such hurry
I ponder what awaits
just past the horizon of a foolish wish, held back by this garden gate.
conscience is a stream,
leaves fall but it sounds like rain; strum instead of fade.
seasons, they say, change
and Autumn begins to weep.
Mary sings of sugar
but it’ll take more than
a spoon
life in brown, red and golden hues.
explosive tones embrace our evening sky – breathless
twilight reaching out,
“wait for me, just one more thought!”
a vision of desperation
but far too beautiful for anyone to say
no, thank you.
drove this afternoon,
so I wouldn’t have to listen to my thoughts
the music helped, but I keep thinking on how everything has changed.
no, not just foliage within the trees or in the depths of the ditches, but in all cases.
there’s an old homestead I wanted to take pictures of, my destination was set for the day. Go back and visit what makes sense, Aud.
as I stopped to turn in, a wedding was just letting out,
I smiled at their choice of location. Country, prairie and simple seems easy.
how fun to imagine his stare and all the dresses, the devotion and all the extras.
the children are safe after a weekend with their father, pleasantries were extended,
college life in full swing and real life looks good on them even from afar, babies no longer, maybe now momma
should breathe.
as night settles in – outside – I gave thanks for the light of the moon, peeking through the leaves still green,
as bright as a headlamp, it would seem, and brought with it an element of peace.
my prayers for you the same today as yesterday, and I’ll visit them again with each tomorrow.
yes, so much is changing and maybe it’s time,
yet I’m fully aware, even with faith in our Lord, I am frightened and full of sorrow.
lavender billowing blossom
freckles peppered properly
peaceful, pure and plum
her post poised pointedly
a vast verdent variety
with a harvest so plentiful,
why is there no joy
with billows of copper creams within the sky,
why do I fear tomorrow
with air as crisp as heirloom apples,
why isn’t laughter around us
with Autumn expressing herself just so,
why am I alone
with a voice shaking towards the bluest of sky,
why, oh why, can’t I fly.
dreamt of gracious willows
swaying against the winds
with echoes of smitten
weaving within its leaves
not one star in the sky tonight
tho’ we rarely speak of them
’tis mostly children, cars and simpler times
in their own right, they all shine
cardinals a symbol of what we mean to me
what will come of thee
verdant grass continues
will it even matter now
darkness looms beyond the street
allow shadows to envelope completely
You can hear the sound of this machine working
– you know you can –
if you’re as old as me,
and grew up in a small Midwestern town,
she was an occasional reality.
We heard about newfangled ways of serving others,
but what we had was good enough.
We understood how to fix her, simple trial and error,
no fuss or awkward searching – some days a little pat on the bottom, or the sweet whisper of, “come on baby” and she’d spring to life.
I smile because she was a dinosaur in the 80s,
yet we were proud.
Seems there is still plenty of good happening right here,
if you’ll allow it.
I miss the days of lost in cerulean and clouds,
even though searching for you came with a cost,
my mind ardently invented you as I lie on the ground.
moments screamed past me then, and there’s no getting them back,
yet I feel fulfilled when memories rush in,
blessed, some would say to forget what I lacked.
a path was forged, one I so desperately needed,
the voice inside me tasted like screaming –
to most it wouldn’t make sense but free, my friend, isn’t always freedom.
If sunsets are passion, run don’t wait.
Tug on shirt tails and grip with both hands – love straight away.
Why wait!
Beauty fades but laughter, love and devotion will always remain.
summertime is what I see
old barn needs some red,
some foolish Gen Z said
my response, “wanna bet!”
leave her alone she’s good as she sits,
what a glorious storytime tone this shade of red is.
afternoon surprise
babe’s breath chosen wildly
delightful workday
crucial some would say
the space between then and now
fluctuates between right
and wrong, expected
obviously.
looking back – foolish,
forward eventually becomes – available.
we possess forward.
when shared,
is it ever really your own?
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 