Today, glimpsed I, a curious sight
A mound of snow, no longer white.
It basked alone, upon brown grass
It seemed to say, This too shall pass
...
As I gazed out the window this
Sweet morning and surveyed the view
I saw that change was in the air;
Like some celestrial store clerk,
...
Norwood asleep beneath
A crisp, crunchy blanket of snow.
Stillness.
Dim street lights bathe
...
“Who tracked in this snow? ”
Mom queried her son.
“It was just me and Sam
Outdoors having fun.”
...
Underneath a crystal sky,
Underneath the darkness wide
with stars so bright,
I lift my eyes to wonder
...
Beatrice wept.
But not so others noticed.
Oh, she laughed alright,
when others told jokes
...
This was to be their first, grand journey.
Who would dare believe?
Sarah Maple, and Ol’ Bear
Her special, robot teddy!
...
I was born at the same time the space age was, and lived all across this American continent. I have always loved art and music...anything creative. This year, when I was having problems with my computer, I thought to myself, 'there's got to be a low-tech way of being creative'. What could be more low-tech, than a pen, a scrap of paper and some imagination? If I can communicate the depths of my soul to a fellow pilgrim; touch a heart; help someone to see things from a fresh perspective, while glorifying Jesus Christ...well, then I will be satisfied. Grace to you, my kin.Love.)
The Tire Swing
He gazed across
The wind swept meadow
To a lone tree
Standing there
Its jagged, silhouette
Surrendered ‘neath
A sky more firey embered
Than
his flaming hair
which crowned him then
but-
it was neither tree
nor sky
that stole his youthful eye.
It was
The tire swing
Whispering, promising,
“With-me,
you can fly! ”
The boy lept
Across the meadow
Like a deer panting
For water,
Till at last
He climbed aboard his dream.
His round, black, holed
Flying machine.
Then, holding tight,
And bending to and fro
With all his might
Began to drive
Began to glide against
The sinking sun
Till
It was night outside
Across the starry,
Littered sky
Beneath the moon’s
Soft lullaby
Ascending ever higher
Make believing
He’s a flyer,
He smiles,
As he tips a wing.
He is an aviator.
He is the sky king!
and
All because of one,
Old tire swing.