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?
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.
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.
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.
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.