Thanksgiving, 2009

Happy Thanksgiving. I would like to share some thoughts on this Thanksgiving eve.

When God sent you into my life,
He was thinking like a Hallmark card.
He cared enough to send only the best.

As the leaves chase each other to the ground
to start fertilizing the new leaves yet unborn,
and the earth receives her autumnal facials,

I think with gratitude for all of you
whose presence has enriched my life.

Some people are like the saffron and red leaves
which have mostly transitioned into retired positions of love,
and others of us hold on
like the russet and bronze oak leaves
whose tenacity and dedication will allow them
to leave only after all others have fallen.

You are like the oak leaves;
you hold on and keep on keeping on
as you fertilize dreams not yet realized,
and hold out the gifts of your presence
in my life and affairs.

Thank you for being my Hallmark cards.
I cherish you in the scrapbook of my mind.

Paper Prayers: A Microcosm of Views of Shannon’s Hill

January, 2008

Today, Arctic winds

howl outside the house,

but I am safe and warm.

What a wonderment is heat;

what a blessing not having

to go out into the frigid air!

O Lord, thank You

for allowing me the opportunity

to be retired and able

to do—or not to do—

as I please.

I shall take down

the decorations of

the season of light,

but I am grateful

to have seen them

for yet another year.

Cold!

Bone-snapping

body-numbing cold—

As I left the house, I could not

but give thanks for

the warmth and hood of

my new “fur” coat.

“Break forth, O beauteous, heavenly light,

and usher in the morning”

has been running through my head these last few days,

and today the morning is beautiful.

It’s supposed to be 60 degrees today;

I cannot imagine how wondrous it must be

to control the wind, the waves, the sun, the moon,

and all creatures gigantic and miniscule

here on Earth and beyond.

The weather is more spring-like than winter!

The squirrel that watches me

evidently times my movements

in order to feast on the bed of tulip bulbs

I so laboriously planted.

There are holes everywhere there was a bulb.

Oh, well,

at least a squirrel family won’t starve.

What a wonderment is snow

as it falls in big, soft flakes.

Even garbage looks beautiful temporarily,

but I am particularly fascinated

by trees and snow studies in black and white.

One source of beauty—

the red of the amaryllis is teasing my eyes.

The amaryllis seems to be opening

in time lapse as I watch

and photograph it each day.

Two blooms should be open by tomorrow.

Beauty is, indeed, its own excuse for being.

Thanks, God!

Thank You, God, for allowing me

the luxury of having my hair done every week.

Being shampooed is as pleasant as

taking off my 18-hour bra

when it has been on overtime!

The streets are clear,

but there is still snow on the grass.

It must be waiting for more to lay atop it.

Cold! The kind that makes

people and animals hunker down

in something warm.

There’s snow forecast

for Tuesday and Thursday,

and last week’s remnants lay in wait

for that which is promised.

Thanks for the 6 blossom amaryllis.

It grows more gorgeous almost every hour.

So far, no snow…

Flo’s amaryllis has buds but no blooms;

Jewell’s and Evelyn’s are competing

to see which one is more beautiful.

Being alive is a wondrous blessing;

just knowing what challenges I have survived

over the years of my life

makes me both thankful and awe-struck.

I sit, listening to the sounds

that soothe and nourish.

The wind moves the branches outside the shutters,

and I am thankful I can sit and watch them

without having to go out

into the rush-hour hustle and bustle.

Thanks, God, for the last day

of my 65^th year; tomorrow is

the beginning of year 66!

Years fall away faster and faster now.

I’m so grateful I took

sequential pictures of the amaryllis.

Yesterday afternoon, it, too, fell away

from its perch on the windowsill.

Alas, four beautiful blooms

did not survive the plunge.

Today, it rains;

tomorrow crocuses will sprout.

I am again thankful

that I do not have to go out.

Thanks for the beauty all around me.

I remain in constant awe at

the complexity and beauty of “simple” things.

February

It was cold and rainy as I left

for Deitra to do my hair,

but it was beautiful seeing the contrast

between the wet tops and dry bottoms

of the trees along the way.

Sometimes it is hard for those around me

to acknowledge or accept

that I am not only physically tired

but also emotionally exhausted.

I do thank You for allowing me

the luxury of some “me” time

to do some of the things I enjoy doing

without being everything to everybody

and nothing to myself.

Today was a quiet day.

I read the papers between naps.

It is unseasonably warm today,

and I have some energy.

After coming back in,

I realized how good it was

getting out for a little while

and then coming back in.

There is a strong wind

and a spring-like 66 degree

temperature early this morning.

A storm is predicted for the evening.

Today has been a fallow one—

one where I’ve thought and slept.

After last night’s storm,

the sun brightly shines.

After acknowledging the dark nights

I’ve allowed in my soul,

the light of positive change just approaches,

and I am thankful.

Let me be ever mindful of what I allow

to color my emotionally has strong influences

on my physical and spiritual selves.

A cold rain replaces

the icy storm from yesterday,

and I awake at 4 a.m.

with a story for children

playing around in my head:

The ornamental grass wants to know,

“Who took away my leaves?

Where did they go?

They were so pretty in my hair.

They were my ribbons and bows—

placed carefully by the blowing air.

What was the human doing with his rake?

He worked and worked,

but I still want to know

What gave him the right

my ribbons and bows to take?”

Today dawns cloudy and quiet,

a good time for contemplation and thanks.

In the distance,

I hear a plane and wish all aboard

a safe and uneventful trip.

Though I slept well after watching South Pacific last night,

I feel I could sleep a little longer

to help this winter’s bad cold

to leave sooner than later.

Thanks for the chance to rest.

The guest on Hour of Power was Wintley Phipps,

whose magnificent baritone voice explained

the slave (pentatonic, black keys only) scale

as the basis for every Negro Spiritual

and one well-known White Spiritual, “Amazing Grace.”

His singing was so moving,

it brought word pictures to my brain.

I want to visit YOU Tube.com

to see his full lesson

on the history of Negro Spirituals.

The squirrels use my roof

as one part of their aerial highway,

and the thumping of their heavy little feet

wakened me to this cloudy and windy morn.

I read the article and felt the pain

of the teacher who missed National Board Certification

by ten points.

I am thankful You allowed me to experience

the process, the pain, and the success.

It truly changed my life—

“Out of adversity, goodness comes.”

Today was an absolutely quiet one.

I spoke with Sistah Friends

and played Bookworm

on Claire’s computer all day.

After 74 degrees on Monday,

today dawns a true winter’s February cold.

I do know there’s a bug going around,

and I wish it Godspeed away.

Thanks, God, for the luxury of the Jacuzzi tub;

it is one of the most relaxing feelings

to soak away discomfort

before going to bed.

This morning has dawned icy,

with promises of additional inclement weather

all day today.

For the first time in a long time,

I cancelled my hairdresser appointment.

I just want to be respectful of ice;

I still remember the feelings

of utter helplessness and the exquisite pain

as my body met the unyielding, hard, slippery tarmac

when I got out of the car once onto a sheet of ice.

Thank You for giving me common sense

enough to stay indoors today.

I am so tired and achy that I want nothing more

than to curl up under my fuzzy green blankie and sleep.

Thanks for that option.

It is raining as I awake

and make my way down to the bathroom.

How wonderfully quiet is the early morning!

I’m up earlier than usual,

and I am not really hungry yet.

I guess I’ll eat around nine.

Without an alarm clock,

my body knows when to get up,

and for that, I am thankful.

The article in The City Paper

about my beloved H.D. Woodson Senior High School

made me want to weep.

It was so negative, so very negative—

but sadly, so true.

To know that both it and Fairmont Heights High School

will be torn down and rebuilt soon

emphasizes the temporariness of all things—

even bricks and concrete.

All of the schools I’ve attended or worked at

will soon be no more.

Only once every four years does Leap Day come;

otherwise, February would seem

to have flown by even faster than January.

The warmth of the sun

offsets the chill of the searching wind.

March

Today is a preview of the spring yet to come,

and I am so grateful to see

the prospect of another season—

even in the middle of winter.

Severe weather is called for tonight,

but so far, our area has gotten only rain.

Bless those who may have been

or will be adversely affected by weather.

Thank You for trash bags, the shredder,

and the energy to sort through and to discard

six or eight bags of things and stuff

that needed to be discarded long ago this past Monday.

At the rate I’m making order in my life and affairs,

the trash men can be assured of continual employment.

Thank You for a clutter-freeness

and for the men who haul away that

which is no longer holding my house

in a tight band of clutter

so strong it feels like a metal corset.

Soft sounds of a steady, soaking rain

awaken me as they plop

against the windows

and massage the roof.

Tonight the time changes,

but today, March lets everyone

know it is still winter with

howling 60 m.p.h. winds,

torrents of rain,

and breathtakingly beautiful sun.

The time has changed,

but my body awakens me on its own time.

I am so grateful to have slept

in a room in the process of becoming beautiful.

The March winds continue

to fell trees as they make way for new growth.

I guess we are getting in tune

with the natural need to purge

and to share what we no longer need or use

in order to make room for that

which is conducive to good health

and perfect peace.

Though the process of purging is difficult,

getting it done is truly a coveted blessing.

Thank You for showing us the way

to spring forth into all we need to do

for health, peace, and beauty.

What a beautiful morning!

I heard the owl this morning

for the first time in a while.

The rain or snow forecast for last night

fell not on our neck of the woods,

but the cold makes me keenly understand

what a necessity is heat.

Thank You for showing us all

how less is, indeed, more.

At times, I feel overwhelmed

as I try to get to less,

but I know I did (no, we did) not get

to more in a day, a week, or even a year.

Thank You for the energy to press on.

The hot shower felt so good this morning.

I have boundless thanks for so many things,

particularly hot water.

The beauty of the early crocuses and budding trees

along the street and in Ft. Dupont Park

leaves me in amazement and awe

at Your handiwork in the midst of the fallow time.

“The ides of March…”

Thank You for the memories

I found or revisited

as I sifted through books and papers yesterday.

May I give advance thanks

for the stamina to continue

until our house is clean, neat, and beautiful?

Lord, I am so very thankful to be eliminating

several sources of stress

with the winnowing out process

of things once loved

but no longer needed,

things like sets of grammar and literature books,

for instance.

Thank You, thank You for all the many favors

You have and will bestow on us.

Yesterday was Christmas;

tomorrow is Easter.

Where does the time fly so fast?

It is as though the Earth

is spinning faster and faster

as we get older and older.

Thank You for a new home

for the grammar books with my niece, Malika,

an instructor at the Prince George’s County Police Department.

I’m so happy when the books can be put to good use.

Lord, Your trees and bulbs and crocuses and jonquils

know just when to reappear to preview

the end of the fallow time

and the beginning of spring.

Thank You for allowing me to revel

in each season’s specialness!

The high gas prices

are having a ripple effect

on everything and everyone.

Thank You for allowing

the peoples of the world

to experience peace

and the means to survive.

“Trouble don’t last always…”

and only You know

when it will be all right.

Spring is only days away,

and today was beautiful.

Good morning, God, and thank You

for the quiet time

when I can sit and think and write.

This time alone is good for me,

for it allows my day

to start off on a calm, meditative note.

There is nothing to disturb

my need for silence.

I think Willie may need some time

to grow into the day also,

for he gets up and goes downstairs

usually before I turn over.

He likes to watch the news

and the History channels;

the sounds I love in the morning

are those made

by the birds, the wind, the rain,

and the snow’s utter silence.

The fallow time is, indeed, valuable.

Thank You for helping me to realize

that if I continue to allow myself

to run on empty that I will have

nothing to offer anyone else.

It has taken some hard lessons

and enforced fallow time

for me to realize that I must

take care of myself first,

to love my neighbor and family as,

not in place of, before, or better than myself.

Thank You for my ever-increasing ability

to continue on the right path.

Today is the day for going to Tuscaloosa,

and tonight Evelyn performs as Lucy Craft Laney

at Stillman’s celebration of National Women’s History Month.

Being able to go is such a wonderful feeling.

The weather is iffy,

but You hold me and others in Your hand,

and I’m not afraid to fly.

The flight was not bumpy except for a few minutes.

Once on the ground,

the dark clouds were fierce looking,

the trees and grasses were magnificent,

and then,

the sun came out.

I knew that Divine Order

was at work in my life and affairs.

The blooming fruit trees at the entrance

to her gated community certainly give

a “Wow, God, how wonderful!” exclamation

as we drive through the gate.

Evelyn’s home is magnificent;

it is truly an expression of who she is.

The painting is colorfully extraordinary

and the feeling in this house

is both warm and comfortable.

The sun room dubbed

“the rejuvenation room” is BEAUTIFUL!

She has joy,

not necessarily happiness,

but inner joy.

The program was

a masterfully creative example of teaching

and learning as performance art.

Constructivist teaching has an appeal

in that it is a cooperative and collaborative effort

between students and their teachers.

The performance reminded me

of the student performances at Woodson

as we Celebrated the Spoken and the Written Word.

Stillman College’s campus

is beautiful and old and replete

with a sense of history and hard work.

I am grateful for the sacrifices of those

who have gone before and laid paths

for others to follow toward better lives,

and I hope I may be a part

of that continuing chain of educators

who believe in the goodness of students

and transformative possibilities of education.

I started reading A New Earth yesterday at the airport

and finished about half of it on the plane.

It makes so much sense, so much sense.

Today is a quiet one for me;

I have sat and read and snoozed.

My body is at rest

and I give thanks for each day.

It feels good and I am grateful to be able

to replenish my energy

after a momentous two days of fun and travel.

Thank You for a painter

who could have charged $1000

to paint the bedroom but did not,

even though he gave us a thousand dollar work effort.

The lemon meringue color is soothing.

Today is sunny and filled with a sense of peace,

and I am so grateful.

Getting all of the books out of the office

is taking longer than I thought it would,

but getting the house in order

is such a joyful feeling.

My gratitude is boundless.

A Season of Miracles

(The Day Before Easter)

We are all one kind of miracle.

The rock has a heart.

Trees are super smart;

they know when to bloom

just as the season of miracles

is about to start.

Another miracle: fish and salt,

two unlikely things, co-exist

and survive in the waters of the sea,

while miracle mortals need

saltless water to survive, just to be.

The sun, the moon, the stars—

Once I thought these things

shone just for me,

but now, I know they shine equally

for all, for us all to see.

It is, indeed, a season of miracles,

and I am happy and thankful

just to be here to see

redbuds and fruit trees bloom,

to plant pansies that smile up at the sun,

to hear birds as they tune up

and sing their symphonies outside my window,

and to watch the sky stay lighter

for longer and longer periods

until another miracle, another season has begun.

The ebb and flow touches us all—

rock and tree, flowers and birds,

and ordinary miracles like you and me.

I stand in thankful awe at the everyday

miracles strewn freely about me everywhere.

Easter Sunday

Today is Easter, and Lord,

I give thanks for all who sacrificed

and still believed in what Your Son meant

when He directed us to love one another.

Thank You for peace and a sense of oneness

for all peoples of planet Earth.

Show us how and what we need to do

as both individuals and as groups

to express our love for all things,

animate and inanimate.

On this Easter morning, may we resurrect

ourselves and move toward total

and honest communication that leads

to understanding, health, and perfect peace.

As today is one of the holiest of holies,

thank You for Your grace and way-showing

toward a better life for us all.

Thank You for Your blessings of health,

honest communication, love, and perfect peace.

As Evelyn said so eloquently,

“I may not have happiness, but I have JOY.”

Help me to have clean thoughts,

unshakable belief, and words that uplift and harm not.

I feel such joy, such hope at perfect health

and abounding peace not only for me

but also for everyone on planet Earth.

Thank You does not seem adequate

for all You do, but I am filled with gratitude.

Three more days and this month

will have joined the other months in flight.

Tomorrow, I’ll continue working upstairs.

The positive changes are obvious

and so pleasing to behold.

Thank You for order, beauty, and peace.

Today, I began to plant the pansies

in the window box,

but the wind’s coldness persuaded me

to enjoy the blessings of indoor heat.

If it is not raining all day tomorrow

and if it is not as chilly,

I shall finish planting the white and multi-colored pansies

in the porch’s flower box.

Today the remnant of winter

makes me appreciate the clearing

of the air by the cold winter-like wind

that persuades me to work inside rather than out.

I think we are all beginning to see

the positive energy that comes

from making space by blessing and releasing

that which we no longer need.

On the way home from dropping off the tax papers,

we indulged ourselves

with scoops of vanilla and peach ice cream.

What a treat! Thank You for another month.

April

Today is forecast to be warmer but still rainy.

The flowers certainly will look more nourished.

The winds let the dead leaves know

it’s time to fall to earth.

The morn is gray and wet.

Graytail, my squirrel observer,

must be some place dry and warm,

for he is not intently studying me

as I study him.

The tops of branches

are black with the rain.

The only sounds are those

of people rushing off to work in their cars.

Thank You that I do not have to do

that morning and afternoon rush any more;

it was only with Your help

that I (and so many others) did

what I did for years and years.

I am thankful for the time

of rest, de-cluttering, and perfect health and peace.

I’m monitoring my prayer thoughts more closely

and trying to correct to the positive

when I stray off course.

Paper prayers may not be everyone’s way

of saying how thankful they are,

but this is one of my most valued

and peaceful times of the day.

The feel of the pen on paper can in no way

be surpassed by the tap of my fingers

on the computer keys.

The raindrops looked like

liquid diamonds on glass

lit behind street lights.

The hard rains of last night

and early this morning washed away

pollen and dirt and nourished

all things living on and beneath the earth.

2^nd try at haiku:

The blowing rain stuck

Like liquid diamonds to glass

backlit by street lights.

There’s a chartreuse dappling

the tallest tree in the backyard.

Tulips open tentatively to peek

at the grape hyacinths, crocuses,

pansies, blooming fruit trees,

and then wait their turn to form

a floral corps du ballet.

Today is windy and chilly,

while yesterday was windy, warm, and wet.

You, Who control everything,

are not only busy but also creative, artistic,

and a Nurturer of all who notice changes in the seasons.

I thank You for beauty that surrounds and sustains me.

Wind blows the dead leaves,

the ones clinging to the trees

swaying on the hill.

Good morning, God, and thank You

for a restful sleep after an enjoyable bath.

Thank You in advance for a day

of peace, painlessness, and gratitude.

I give thanks for yesterday’s fallow time

away from the computer;

it allowed me time

to think and just TO BE.

What wonderment…

Tolle’s book reinforces a lot of the lessons of Unity,

and I feel the strong need

to go back to church,

something I’ve missed doing

for a few years.

Even though I have not been

in a church building on a regular basis,

I have never stopped believing

that I am Your child.

Graytail once more traveled and paused

outside my window yesterday.

Surprising how I missed seeing him/her…

Today is anniversary 40 of the assassination

of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in Memphis,

one day after walking

in support of the garbage men.

So many will speak of him today

and so many will forget

his message of peace and love—even now.

The soft rains from You seem

to be silent weeping for all who are in pain,

all who are not at peace.

Thank You for perfect health, order, beauty, and peace.

Thank You for “me” time in the mornings

and for the additional joy of pampering at the beauty shop.

Tornadoes devastated parts of the South last night;

hail also fell on this, the 573^rd tornado of the year.

The sun is out and

the wind seems less forceful.

Thanks for the tulips, grape hyacinths,

forsythia, pansies, jonquils, and daffodils.

The fruit trees blooming everywhere

take my breath away with their beauty.

The photographs I took of the flowers

may bring joy to others

once I get them in a sharing place.

Two gunshots,

quick BLAM! BLAM! rang out

between 9:30-10:00 p.m. last night.

They were much too close for comfort,

and we did not dare go

to the window to investigate.

We continued moving books from the office.

I even offered the hope that

what we heard may have come from remnants

of the Cherry Blossom fireworks.

Between 11:30 and midnight,

I went downstairs to answer

the call of the bladder

and was startled by two squad cars

shining a light up our driveway,

then moving on up the street,

only suddenly to back up and park

on either side of the street.

Two officers then knocked on our neighbor’s door,

peeked in the front windows,

and finally left when no one answered the door.

Almost two hours between…

Two shots shattering the night

Two squad cars blocking the street

Two officers out on the street,

Cautiously checking, unsuccessfully,

The source of 2 shots too close.

This morning is cloudy

and raindrops softly plop

on the shingles of the roof.

The little kid in me still wonders

where the birds and other animals

go to stay dry,

but You have always worked things out for us all.

Thank You for allowing me still

to have a sense of wonderment

and a sense of awe and gratitude.

Thank You for Divine Order,

peace for all here on earth,

and perfect health.

I’m excited about sharing Poetry Day

with the fifth graders

at Martin Luther King School

on the twentieth.

I do miss the interaction with students,

but I am thankful to be able now

not to have to go out daily.

Little or no wind stirs the trees outside my window,

and the sun rests behind or above the clouds.

The stillness of the morning

gentles me into the day,

and I am at peace.

I finished Tolle’s book last night;

its message of positivity and hope

was just what I needed to encourage me

to make the most of the end

of the fallow time and increased creativity.

It seems that I bloom like the tulips

as the daylight lengthens.

Fog is giving the earth a facial.

Today dawns a lighter gray than yesterday—

just as the office is lighter today than yesterday.

Only You can control the weather,

and I am at peace to see its daily variety.

For so many years,

I have journaled only sporadically,

and I am filled with gratitude

at having the time and the energy

to follow through daily.

I feel so good about the house

becoming less and less cluttered

and more attractive,

and I give thanks in advance

for good homes for the books I no longer need.

Getting rid of books is hard for me,

but I know I must make way

for this next phase of my life.

Knowing that someone else can get good use

from them is a saving grace.

Yesterday was a beautiful “soft” day;

though cloudy, it was warm—

almost like the afterglow

of the earth’s facial from previous rains.

It is not yet dawn,

but the lapis sky silhouettes

branches black outside my window.

The tulips that have come up

delight my eyes and amaze me

with their crimson beauty.

Thank You for Your infinite artistry

that so freely shares perfection

in the most simple things.

As I write, I sit,

snuggled under my soft green blankie.

Its warmth is both tactile, pleasant, and bodily soothing.

I feel a deep abiding joy

whenever it touches my body,

and I give thanks.

Tonight’s rain looked like back-lit diamonds on the window panes.

Divine Order is at work in my life and affairs,

and my gratitude is unending.

What a pleasure it was last night

to snuggle up and go to sleep listening to the rain.

Though I am working slowly,

I realize that everything did not accumulate at once.

As the clutter decreases,

my joy increases,

and I am ever thankful.

Today feels like

it is going to be another perfect day.

I’m going to buy four more boxes

and try to get everything ready for the painter.

Thank You for a pain-free energy filled day.

Yesterday, I walked

a King Charles Springer Spaniel named Allie.

What a delightful, energetic little dog!

The sun illumines Shannon’s redbud and pink azaleas,

just one way to elicit a “WOW!”

from any who will look.

How beautiful!

Willie and the guys have gone

to Charlotte Hall for a car show,

one of the first of the season.

Our usual Sunday morning bagel breakfast will not be today.

The sun favors the car show participants.

Yesterday was quiet, a very quiet one.

Trees and flowers make me awe-struck.

Something in every season brings about

this feeling of gratefulness and awe.

The dogwood has begun to bloom,

and now, afternoon clouds

obscure the morning’s sun.

If it threatens rain,

the car show will surely end,

and things of beauty

will once again retire to garages.

I am moving slower today

than I thought I would be,

but I am thankful

for movement and another day.

The sun shines brightly

on what appears to be a chilly morning.

The rest of the day is forecast to be sunny,

but whatever the weather,

there will be something of beauty to appreciate.

I found more poetry and musings

as I sorted through stuff yesterday.

Once everything is organized,

these writings will need putting in the computer.

Many creative ideas and projects

are presenting themselves for consideration

now that the creative season is here.

The telephone aroused me

from a sound slumber,

and I am thankful for

the beauty of this sunny morning.

Today the city awaits the arrival of the Pope,

and the air is filled

with excitement of old and young alike.

Yesterday’s trip to the dentist

found us both with a cavity and need for further work.

I’m not worried,

for I know there are a way and a solution

to all challenges.

Thank You for the boxes and the stamina

to fill them with the rest of the books and artifacts.

There is less clutter now

than when we started,

but there is much still to do.

“Inch by inch, anything’s a cinch.”

I notice the wind as it encourages

the few remaining leaves of the winter

to make way for the new ones poised to come,

and I am reminded that even as nature purges and purifies,

so must we humans do likewise.

Today, I shall rejoice at being o.k.,

at peace, and in perfect health.

Emancipation Day—

I have found so much additional poetry and short stories,

and I give advance thanks

to get them all typed and organized into the computer.

What a beautiful day was yesterday,

and this morning it seems today

is going to be equally wonderful.

The purple of the redbud,

the azaleas’ hot pink

now are punctuated

by the dogwood’s white blooms.

My amazement never ceases

as I behold the wonders

all around me,

wonders free for the looking

for all who will but see.

I want to sit and revel in the silence of the morning,

maybe even to snooze a little while longer

before I go to meet the rest of the day.

Maybe today,

I’ll get the pansies planted.

For whatever comes,

I am thankful.

Two police cars responded

to our neighbor finding a bullet

embedded in his deck

and another in his front yard.

Perhaps these are the remnants

of the close-by gunshots

we heard a few days ago.

Whoever shot must have been moving

fast and from very close by.

I’m glad no one was hurt.

The blooms on the dogwood

are so strikingly beautiful,

especially as they offset the redbud

and the new-leaf greens all around it.

I awake to the soft sounds of rain

cleansing the pollen and

nourishing the growing things.

The rain is now harder

as it plops against the windows and the roof.

Such a soothing sound—

Now cometh the thunderstorm…

A lone mockingbird

sits on the highest part of the fence

as it surveys the new-leaf green

that now covers the near and far horizon.

Yesterday’s storms have cleansed the air

and washed away the pollen,

and all of a sudden,

the leaves have popped out.

This morning’s rain is soft,

the sky overcast but not threatening.

Last night’s thunder rumbled in the distance

as the few lightning flashes

turned the night into day.

High winds were destructive tornadoes

in parts of Maryland and Virginia.

I pray that all who were damaged

will soon be made whole again.

Spectacular photos of lightning

striking two planes leaving Dulles

flashed across the news,

but both planes landed,

safely guided by Your hands.

The water blackened branches

silhouette themselves against

the creamy whiteness of the dogwood’s blooms.

I’ve watched the old leaves

clinging throughout the winter

being forced, one by one, to surrender

from the new growth pushing from within.

Now, only memories of them remain…

The wind rustles through leaves new

and scatters blossoms old

as planet Earth works in tandem

with You and Mother Nature

to make all things beautiful.

My head and eyes give thanks

for the rain-cleansed air

and the lessening of pollen.

Yesterday’s sun illumined ordinary things

into extraordinary ones cleansed by rains

and free of pollen.

What beauty we passed as tree boxes

and planters full of blooming annuals

saluted in silent formation.

Such beautiful pinks, yellows, purples, and whites

—freely waiting for all to see.

How many others love them as I?

How many ever saw them on Earth Day?

Graytail is back outside my window.

His perfect balance amazes me

as he hangs upside down by his tail

to munch a tasty morsel.

We watch and silently greet each other

as we contemplate the wonderment of our existence.

Upon further observation,

maybe Graytail is testing building materials

and choosing just the right ones for a nest…

Crows caw outside my window,

and it is the first time I have heard them this year.

Now leaves on the mulberry tree are nearly two inches long,

their serrated edges becoming more noticeable

against the brightness of the morning sky.

I am at peace.

Today is sunny, bright, and beautiful,

and maybe I’ll be able to plant

the flower box on the porch

and lay out some of last year’s seeds.

I am sore but a good sore from work.

Thank You for last night’s storm.

The rain washed off the pollen

that looked like yellow-green paintballs

spattered across the car.

The new-leaf green leaves outside my window sway,

but gently, in this morning’s breezes.

It is cloudy and wet,

a typical April morning,

and I am so grateful to be alive

and privy to the wonderment

that nature brings every single day.

There is a lushness to the greenery outside the house,

and the showers encourage growth

while washing away the pollen.

It’s colder and wetter today than yesterday,

but I am excited about working with students

at Martin Luther King Elementary School for Poetry Day.

The rain increases,

and I hear it as it hits the roof.

Oddly enough, this is a comforting sound,

one that earlier gave me the urge

to cocoon and sleep until after 9—a good feeling.

Working with students yesterday was so much fun!

Thank You for young poets and writers

who have so much talent and so much to share.

I was pleasantly surprised yesterday

to find that three of the MLK teachers and I

had been at DC Teachers’ College together.

That was a time so far away

but so lovingly remembered.

Today is bright, calm, and chilly,

but we were blessed during yesterday’s torrential rains.

No tornadoes ravaged this area

like what happened in Suffolk, Virginia.

Bless all who have been hurt,

and help us to remember how truly blessed we are.

As I write, I notice the busyness

of the leaves as the wind picks up.

Oh, God, two shafts of sunlight

are now highlighting six leaves

outside my window!

In the time it takes me to write this,

their spotlight moment ended,

but how beautiful they were!

What beauty that is so free for the taking.

This morning, the sun is playing peek-a-boo

with not only the leaves but also the creamy white blossoms

of the dogwood tree.

I stay in awe at Your wonders,

the ever-changing landscape,

the seasons, and the animals and flowers that come,

stay for a while,

then make way for the next sharing of beauty.

I awake to a golden sky

and the sound of my daughter’s laughter.

Oh, God, the azaleas are so beautiful.

The colors, from the palest to the brightest,

blend perfectly,

and I am in awe at Your handiwork.

May

Thank You for another night and yet another month.

Each month seems to go by at almost warp speed.

When first I woke,

there was a peachy golden glow to the east,

but now it appears that rain is in the near forecast.

Graytail bounded across the roof

and into the mulberry tree,

but we didn’t study each other this morning.

Maybe he was seeking shelter from the coming rain.

The leaves outside my window

seem to be doing their morning calisthenics.

It is somewhat overcast right now,

but today is supposed to be

sunny and bright and eighty degrees,

a duplicate of yesterday.

The sunniness of the morning

and the rustling of the leaves

really look like a beautiful spring day in the making.

From where I sit,

it appears to be sunny but very breezy.

The telephone shatters the late morning silence,

and I am grateful for the sun

playing shadows with the leaves.

I am so glad the people of the United States

could see through the distractions

and negative campaign ads in the presidential race

between Obama and Clinton.

It is time for unity and reconciliation

of the peoples of the United States.

There is so much talent here that we could solve

so many challenges by working together.

I hope we can all be more aware

of our oneness

instead of our separateness

and our prejudices.

Bless the people of Myanmar

as well as the people still affected

by the after effects of Katrina.

It still amazes me how rapidly the U.S.

can muster aid for those thousands of miles away

while ignoring the tragedy at home.

This is the latest I have slept in a long time,

and on this overcast morning,

it feels good!

Thank You for time to sleep and think

and just BE.

While today may not be as warm,

the air should be better

because of the rain washing down the pollen.

Some time during the night,

the power succumbed to the rain.

It is gray and chilly and wet.

Thank You for telling me

to sleep in the chair

so that I would not be alarmed

by the C-PAP machine on strike.

Rest was wonderful,

and awaking to the call of the bladder

made me thankful for daylight.

I want to buy azaleas today

for my Mom and each of my seven sisters.

A fallen tree, by the way,

was the cause of the power outage.

Tomorrow, I start another journal.

Writing every day is truly a blessing

for which I am thankful.

Putting one’s soul on paper

is both freeing and a potent way

of recording paper prayers, thoughts, and musings.

Thank You for the writing time.

What a wonderful way to spend Mother’s Day—

at home, no cooking, family close by

and safely out of crowds and torrential rain.

I am at peace.