Angels of the Backroad

Autumn on the lake

I have lived away from cities for so long now
That my solitary nature extends to the practice of silence.
During the day,
I don’t reach to the remote for the distraction
Of TV noise or tune into music, classical or otherwise,
Only listening for the songs of wind or wing
In the morning sky
And the raucous call of crows.

Sunlight breaks across the window panes
Directing the small dog to its warmth.
I long for the days of comfort as I sit at the old table,
Dented and worn from gatherings of dearly beloveds
And simple meals that have fed my soul.

I reach for my sweater and the leash
And we walk out to the backroad down to the lake
Where the angels and I will silently commune
As the small ducks accept the gift of stale bread.

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

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.

Fear Not

Angel of Bluebirds

Fear Not

My footsteps, muffled in the frigid morning,
break the icy crust
of the nights snow.

I scatter offerings to the winged creatures
as they perch in the fragrant evergreen boughs-
with bright eyes, they watch me.

As I turn to go back in the warm house,
celestial voices are lifted in song
and the sound of wings echo in the air.

His voice on the phone
sounds strong
and brave.
The stem cell transplant
is scheduled
for the new year
with word
that an angel will appear
to watch over him-

fear not.

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings… Luke 2:10

*** This was written several years ago before my brothers stem cell transplant. He continues to do well, is still in a chemo routine that will be a part of his life, but he is living his life without fear.