A Journey of (re) creation- part 3 or so

http://www.tablerocklakehomesearch.com/listing/mlsid/392/propertyid/60063251/

We are selling our home.

It is the place we came to after leaving our wonderful ‘last really good shack’. A house brought to us by an angel and we have loved it for more than 14 years.

We built Mom’s apartment onto the den in 2005 and she lived happily with us for 11 years. It has been a joy and blessing to us.

Now it is time to move on. Find a new adventure. Re-create our lives once again.

So, if you know anyone who would love a great lakehouse on Table Rock Lake in southwest Missouri, I know just the place.

And, of course, I will keep you posted.

Thank you, my dear friends,
Kathleen

The Quiet of the Crescent Moon

The Quiet of the Crescent Moon

Colors recede into the waters fall,
casting the depths into shadow.
Singed fingers of sunlight
echo across the last faint reflections
settling into the corners of the day.
Twilight fills in and pushes past the horizon
until at last, the gleam of a silvered corona
is seen in the western sky,
floating in deepest celestial blue-
the quiet of the slender crescent
as she gently cradles the old moon in her arms.

*** a revision of a previously posted poem.

The Wren and Her Song

Receding fog on the cove

Receding fog on the cove

We woke to deep fog.
Air so thick with moisture, water droplets formed on everything. We were drenched just taking our early morning walk with Theo.
As the clouds began to lift and the morning began to brighten, the brilliantly clear and LOUD song of a wren pierced the misty air.
As more of the fog receded and the sky became brighter, the louder her song. She was very proud of her effort and continued in full throated triumph until the sun had broken through and the skies revealed the beautiful sapphire blue of late winters day.

small brown wren
in glorious song
singing as if she alone is responsible
for the rising of the sun

In Like a Lion

Golden Trumpets

In Like a Lion

It seems that the rotation of the earth
speeds up and
gravity is loosened just a bit
as the gusts pull
at everything standing.

The creaks and moans
of the buffeted trees
carry across the ridge
with flying leaves
from swaying blackjack oaks.

Whips of forsythia
slice yellow over their heads
while the daffodils
hold onto their bonnets
and small birds hide
in the pollen sugared cedars.