Joy

Twelve Days of Angels Day Two

Joy leapt up
Like a hare in the meadow
Like a quail on the wing
Like a fish in the sea.

Joy leapt up
And ran and jumped and skipped
And fell into my lap.

Joy said
Did you see it?
A song bright as a candle.
A light sweet as a song.
A star strong as a heartbeat.

Joy leapt up
And twirled about the room
About the earth
About the sky

Joy leapt up
From a promise
From a Word
From a womb.

Joy leapt up!

— This is a poem written many years ago and I love to share it each Christmas season – may you and yours be surrounded by joy every day. K

Christmas at the Black Horse

Christmas at the Black Horse 2013 2Christmas at the Black Horse 2013 1Christmas at the Black Horse 2013

Festive night filled with music-
the sound of guitar, mandolin
and drum
(pa rum pa pa pum)

Red Santa hats,
jingle bells and neon signs
brighten the early winter darkness.

Voices raised in laughter
and song-
on the first day of Christmas
my true love
sang to me
Wildfire
and a possum in a persimmon tree.

*** it was a wonderful night at the Black Horse for the Christmas open mic night. I read a couple of poems and we all sang my take on the Twelve Days of the Ozarks and our friends, old and new, made merry.
note: the photos are from 2013 and we miss those who have moved on to warmer climes especially Ally and Pete – love you guys!

the angel of roadways and forest paths

Sweet face of an Angel

A string of paths criss-cross the winter meadow-
tracks of fox and deer
prove the passage of time under the moon.
But this morning,
it’s the small dog and me,
up at dawn,
moving quietly on our morning walk.

I woke from a dream of you,
the smell of hot asphalt
and stale truck stop coffee lingered
as did the sound of your voice,
laced with gravel and cigarettes,
and the twinkle in your blue eyes,
set in the well lined map,
all the roads traveled in your long life.

Hurrying toward home,
the small dog and I,
fog drenched,
walk up the forest path.
The smell of hot coffee greets us
at the end of the road.

I lie awake

Autumn on the lake

I lie awake-
bits of remembered melody
drift in the morning breeze,
old hymns of redemption
and loss.

I lie awake-
whispers of ghosts and angels
walking the deep green forested paths.
Across the water I hear their murmuring,
I wait for the fall.

I lie awake-
scent filled breeze
brings the smell of ripened grain,
sweet grass and damp leaf mold.
I wait for the season’s change.

I lie awake-
a fallow field
after the year of jubilee-
debts forgiven and begging no longer-
I wait for the autumn rains.