Life growing
Through her
Gently
Slightest twists
Fleshing out
Encompasses
Claiming possession
Surrounding each curve
Of that which is her
She: adorned with brio
By his verdurous abstraction
Audacious bliss
Tag Archives: Photography
Your Christmas Poem
Here it is early Christmas morning. I should be in bed, but my baby sister, Leah, asked for a poem. I told her it would end up being terribly sad, and she said “sounds perfect.” My three siblings, no matter how old we get, still feel an incredible urge to be together for Christmas.
The last Christmas memory I have of us, as a nuclear family, is from when I was 12. It isn’t a positive memory, in all honesty. I remember my parents fighting in the only bathroom our house had, but it was one of the farthest rooms from the Christmas tree, so that’s where they went in an effort to shelter us from their crumbling marriage.
My parents needed to be away from the tree, because that’s where the four of us were sleeping. We were in a row with all four heads as far under the tree as possible.
We always decorated a real tree. Dad would load us all up into the pickup and we’d drive out to a small town called Ong. I’m not sure we were allowed to call Ong a town, it was more like a village, but a Christmas tree farm was located close by and we went every year.
This particular year, we walked a while before finding the perfect tree. I had my heart set on the best looking tree. Dad tried to warn me that it was too big for our living room, but I wouldn’t listen. I dug my heals in and insisted we cut the tree down and take it home.
Dad cut the tree down happily. We all helped carry it back to the pickup. Dad was great about choosing his battles with his children. Not much ever stirred him up, if I remember correctly. Calm, cool and relaxed is the best way to describe him. Mom could be described the same way now. Back then I think she looked at his coolness as more of a detriment to the greater good, if ya know what I mean.
My dad once crushed a man’s fist with his bare hand. The reason had something to do with witnessing this man strike his wife with the force of ten men. I suppose we all have limits, but I digress.
Y’all, the tree was enormous. We couldn’t place it in front of the picture window of our house, because of the size. We had to place it into a corner and hope for the best. The tree must have taken up the majority of two walls, but no one cared. We laughed over that tree for hours, maybe even days.
Anyway, this is what runs through my mind while trying to find the right words for a poem.
I thought I’d share a few silly giggles we had while chatting tonight…
Baby and her crew are in Colorado for Christmas. As they were reaching their destination she snaped this picture:
She says we made it…only three individual lights glowing out here in the middle of nowhere and we all have the same last name. Colorado farm country can be a lonely place.
Middle was also traveling for Christmas tonight. Somewhere near the Oklahoma panhandle is her destination. Middle came out of the womb a city girl, but married a country boy, so we often giggle over her adventures. She sent me this update:
“Aud, the last truck ahead of us just turned. We’re officially alone out here and it’s spooky.” (Gorgeous picture, Bean!)
Lastly, Big Brother’s holding his own fort down and doing his part for Santa. Not sure cookies go with his drink of choice, but he’s the oldest and I’m not gonna argue with him, plus someone at his house just got a set of drums…
So yeah, that was our Christmas Eve giggle session. Oh, I did share this photo with them, but know that you may not hold me accountable for finishing it.
Here’s your poem, my loves.
*****
Christmas without you,
Never seems the same,
The food tastes worse,
And usually, ’tis game.
Hunting is frequent,
Among midwestern plains,
So the complaining must quit,
There’s only you to blame.
Of course we’d rather be together,
Sitting inside Big Brother’s barn,
We all know what happened last year,
Not one of us tried looking for a star.
We were all far too busy singing songs,
About whiskey and honky tonk bars,
To remember how often we’re apart,
A new Christmas memory is now ours.
Okay, it’s 2:40 AM….I’m spell checking and that’s all. My siblings got their Christmas wish. Anything that doesn’t make sense we’ll blame on Eggnog. Merry Christmas!!
Merry Christmas, My Muse
My Strength
Southern Winter (Haibun)
Do you ever have moments where you find yourself wishing, if even for a few brief seconds, you would’ve shared a sunrise like this with someone special?
Me, too.
When an unexplainable dawn leaves me breathless, this is when I need you the most. You could use your words to help me see her beauty, possibly the greatness that could come from today.
Instead, I’ll leave you with this:
A breathless dawning
Winter doesn’t look the same
Take me to the snow
Imaginations
Your Return
Tonight, This Is Who I Am
Preparing for tonight,
Charcoal dress pressed,
Shoes red, high.
Silver jewels, a favorite,
My simple black scarf,
Crimson curls pinned back,
Yet teasing my neck.
Christmas party, downtown,
Minute Maid Park, banquet.
Will smell of testosterone,
And weaken my reserve,
Of this, I’m quite sure.
Best smile upon my face,
Dimples ready to play,
You’ll have it no other way.
Final wish for tonight,
Small of my back,
And your hand in place.
Quick look into my mirror,
Remembering who I am,
Just a small town girl,
Confident, yet amazed.
Pleasing
In Her Time
Crystalline Afternoon
Confidence
I see
Tomorrow
Primitive Beauty
Winter Touch
Undeserving
Your effort to espy,
Offered in devotion.
As if creating her,
To be yours,
You choose each breath,
Affectionately.
Describing her worth,
Expressing the beauty,
She fails to presume,
However, you prove,
Consistently,
With inevitable care.
She’ll feel you,
Prepare in coy,
Wearing soft lilac,
Freely.
Her hint of blush,
Amplified for you, always.
Happy Thanksgiving
Wishing I was with you,
No matter where you are,
I thought I heard you whisper,
Meet me among the stars.
Paper, rock, scissors,
Our little boy insists,
Hugs and kisses,
On his nightly visit.
He waits patiently,
On the tip of the moon,
His favorite moment,
You be me,
And I’ll be you.
***Written with love for my siblings. Big Brother, Middle, and Baby will all arrive late tonight at Dad’s house. The Old Cowboy will be thrilled. I know the coffee will be on and the anxious chatter will begin. It’ll be way past midnight, it usually is, when this poem arrives.
*****
~Photo taken by Middle somewhere in Western Kansas~
***Now a quick ditty…
‘Tis a late Thanksgiving Eve,
And found crowded around the table,
Is a family who loves to giggle,
With someone who’s trying to sleep.
As usual, it’s our Middle,
Big Brother’s asked to please wake her,
Hurry now, before she’s seen,
Or, as usual, Baby’s gonna scream.
“Someone pay attention to me!”
“Don’t you love me anymore?”
“Get Middle off the floor!”
Big Brother will scratch his head,
And roll his eyes with a grin,
Mumbling, “Not this again…”
Time for some of my Dad’s whiskey.
Our Old Cowboy lifting her to her feet,
Left responding rather gruffly,
“Middle, you haven’t even kissed me!”
All four will be left to ponder,
Why his Oldest Daughter’s missing,
“Who does she think she is by moving.”
What could their redheaded sister,
Have possibly planned,
More important than her clan?
I know, they know, for Thanksgiving,
There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,
But, this year I have to write for them,
From here in Houston, sun shining.
Happy Thanksgiving!!!! I love you guys!!
~Little do they know…I’m off in the morning to experience Houston’s live Thanksgiving Day Parade.






















