LIKE A WILDFLOWER

When I see a field of wildflowers …

(the Earth smiling up at me)

I wonder if they aren’t subtly trying to show us…

the kind of people we should be.

A wildflower is free…it’s intention…truly grand:

To live in cooperation with all who view it.

To bring beauty to the land.

A wildflower learns quite early there is a struggle to be won…

That it must push itself through darkness…if it is ever to find the sun.

A wildflower opens its eyes to the sunshine…its heart lifted as gentle breezes blow…

It closes its eyes during the rain and the cold…knowing they are here to help it grow.

A wildflower understands what make the world beautiful…

what makes every day a beautiful day

is how every flower can be so different…

yet is beautiful in its own way.

A wildflower knows not hate, does not envy nor assume.

A wildflowers finds its joy in its ability to bloom.

A wildflower does not injure others, 

It does not cause another harm

It accepts the bee, the bird, the butterfly…

and us…with open arms.

Oh, if we could only be more like the wildflower

with but one intention…truly grand:

To live together with with each other…

to bring beauty to the land…

To understand how we are on this Earth…

only for a short while…

and to live so that when we die…

we will be remembered…with a smile.

...LIKE HOME

A sight…a sound…a touch can awaken a memory

and in that memory a moment is revived…

And even a simple aroma…can make a memory come alive?

Cookies baking in the oven…is a smell I’ll always adore,

clothes fresh out of the dryer…fried chicken in the store.

The smell of rain…a bubbling pizza,…strawberries…

an afternoon barbecue…

an orange…a watermelon,…a fresh peach…

that perfect honeydew…

Onions caramelizing on the stove,…cooking garlic in a pan,

bacon…donuts…Coppertone—you know that stuff that makes you tan.

The salt and the sand at the ocean…dogwoods blooming in the trees,

popcorn,…a newborn baby…the smell of a mountain breeze.

Chocolate,…vanilla,…a Christmas tree…apple pie that’s al-a-mode,

coffee brewing in the morning…grass…once it’s been mowed.

The smell of books…almost any flower…a gardenia…a carnation,…a rose

peanut butter when you first open the jar…the smell of a loved one on your clothes.

Grandma’s perfume or Dad’s cologne when I smell them in the air…

makes me stop and think about them…as if they were standing there…

These are some of the aromas…over the years that I have known

Feel free to close your eyes a moment…and add some of your own…

And relive the magic of aromas…for wherever we may roam…

We know we’re smelling so much more…

We’re smelling love

We’re smelling home.

HAPPINESS WILL RETURN

Her sorrow at her loss was overwhelming….

It wold not leave her side

So she sought the wisdom of an old friend

In whom she could confide….

“Today your forest is dark.” Her friend said.

“For darkness is what sorrow brings.

All the trees are bent in sadness.

All the birds have broken wings.”

“You cannot force your happiness to return.” she said

Your heart…cannot be deceived.

You must allow yourself this sadness

You need this time to grieve.”

“But when will my sorrow end?” She asked

I’ve been sad for much too long….”

Her friend smiled…

There is no right way to deal with sadness

just as there is no wrong.”

Your sadness will always be there

some days it lies dormant…other days it churns

but slowly when you least expect it…

happiness will return…

The day you smile in spite of your tears

is the day your happiness will again be revealed….

The day you can tell your story and no longer cry…

It is the day you know you’ve healed.”

THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

Their parents drove them to the cemetery

because they wanted their family to see…

to understand the price…the cost

for them to all live free. 

As the rain fell softly their parents explained

how it wasn’t really rain…

but the tears of all who loved them

falling back to earth again.

GRANDPA AND ME

People say Grandpa and I are a lot alike in how we look and what we do

and sitting here with Grandpa…I guess that’s kinda true.

I mean we both like fancy clothes…and dressing with some flair…

and quiet moments when we walk…in nothing but our underwear.

We both have bald spots on our heads, 

but here’s something to think about

not all my hair has grown in yet

while most of his is out.

We both make funny faces and our tummies are soft and round.
and sometimes for no apparent reason our bodies make odd sounds,

We both love to play.

We both love to drink…and eat

And both of us, at times, are a little unsteady on our feet.

We both love to read books

despite the discrepancy in our ages

In truth…Grandpa does all the reading

but I like listening and turning pages. 

We both smile when we see each other…

Moms say it’s because we share a heart

and when it’s time to say goodbye

we’re both sad we have to part…

But you know…the more I think about it…

I have to disagree

I don’t think I’m at all like Grandpa

But he sure is a lot like me.

WE BOW OUR HEADS

When we first hear the news of another shooting

another list of people dead

we are saddened and our hearts ache

and we immediately bow our heads.

We bow our heads in silence 

for we don’t know what to say.

We bow our heads in reverence. 

We bow our heads to pray.

We pray this killing will stop!

That today will be the last day!

That all sides will put away their differences

and somehow find a way…

to solve this horrendous problem

instead of trying to cover it up!

Because we’ve been bowing our heads so often now

It’s getting harder and harder…to look up.

ONE OLD FISHERMAN

Today we decided to take our kayaks to a mountain lake as part of the day we had planned.

The lake was deserted when we arrived…save for a kindly old fisherman.

And his grandson who he brought with him…their plan for the day…their wish…

to stand together on the banks of this beautiful lake and hopefully catch some fish.

When the old fisherman saw us unloading he came over and stood for a spell…

It seems, like every good fisherman, he had a few tales to tell.

He told us about growing up nearby, how he loved fishing even back then.

He told us how he loves returning to this lake with his grandson…

again…and again…and again…

He told stories about his family, this lake and these woods

stories he gathered up through the years…

stories that floated like music from his lips through the air and and into our ears…

His grandson interrupted saying, “ Grandpa, it’s time to go fishing.”

and reluctantly the old fisherman walked away

but I had the feeling if his grandson didn’t call him

he would have talked for the rest of the day.

And I’m pretty sure we would have listened…

Because when a fisherman tells stories…that’s what one does…

As he walked away we said it was nice to have met him…

And you know what…it really was!

Because as we all went off to the lake…they to fish…we to kayak as planned…

I couldn’t help thinking how this days adventure…had been enhanced by this old fisherman.

And isn’t that what makes life so wonderful?

How, eventually, we all come to understand

that our day can be made even more beautiful

by something we never had planned!

THE HUG (THE SEQUEL)

I wrote this poem a year ago 

but in a world of uncertainty

of disasters, mass shootings, hatred, wars and drugs

It seems appropriate to bring it back…

because we all could use more hugs….

Yes, I’ve used this poem before

but at the risk of sounding smug…

I like to think these words have come back to wrap around us…

Like our arms do…when we hug

THE HUG

What a beautiful gesture is the hug…

a wonderful way to show

feelings of affection for those you do…

and those you do not know.

The hug is universal…around the world it’s known...

but the funny thing about it…you cannot hug alone.

You need at least one other person…and you all must be prepared…

for a hug to work it’s magic…a hug has to be shared.

Hugs can work to calm us, to show our love, to ease our fears…

They can help to make us smile…they can help to dry our tears.

Lovers hug, parents hug, and what child doesn’t love to squeeze

Why we even have a friend of ours who loves to hug the trees.

A good hug is a gift…and when hugged one must respond

It unites the huggers together…completing a circle…creating a bond.

It’s a way of communicating without words…

sharing a moment in the sun...

A way, in that one moment,

for two people to be one.

With a hug's grace and broad appeal…

with it’s beauty...

with it’s charms

It makes me wonder if that is not the reason…

why we were given arms.

THE BIG SISTER

What was it about her that made her smile?

What was the reason she couldn’t resist her?

Was it how old she was…how tall…how wise?

Or just the fact she was her big sister?

What made her follow her around

trying to learn from every move she made?

What made her fly to her when she was happy?

and run to her when afraid?

They were years apart, didn’t share their clothes

never shared their toys…

but she listened when she needed her…

she shared in her sorrow and joys.

She looked up to her when she was little

but she found as time went by,

she didn’t need to look up any more…

for they were seeing eye to eye…

And somewhere along the way

she’s not sure when but she contends…

they became much more than sisters

when they became each other’s friend.

And when she died…too early…

although her heart was eternally broken

she came to understand they had

a connection that couldn’t be broken…

Because she still feels the love they shared

in quiet moments her heart will stir…

As she remembers the influence…the impact

her big sister had on her.

THE SADDEST HOME OF ALL

What is it about an abandoned house…

neglected…empty…just sitting there?

What is it about its vulnerability that makes us stop and stare?

Perhaps what makes us pause a while…as across this land we roam

is that we realize it’s not just an abandoned house…

it is an abandoned home.

It’s sad to think this crumbling house has lost its soul…its heart.

And sad to think this one-time home has been left to fall apart

When we see it isolated…lonely…deserted…

it allows our imagination to flow

Since there’s no-one there to tell its story…

there’s so much we’ll never know

But we know there was a story here…

one we cannot disregard…

What happened to the family who lived inside it?

Did children play in its front yard?

Did joy and happiness fill its walls?
Was their laughter…love…and glee?
Did it see its share of pain and suffering?

Did it witness tragedy?

I imagine some homes with people in them 

can be crazy, insane or mad…

can be happy, joyful, supportive 

can be sorrowful or sad.

But as I stand here staring at this old house

with it’s falling roof and decaying walls

I have to wonder if an abandoned house

isn’t the saddest home of all.

A MOTHER'S SECRET

On the day she was born her mother held her in her arms

her happiness cascading down in tears.

She kissed her forehead, held her tiny hand in hers

then whispered in her ear…

Do you want to know a secret?

It’s crazy but it’s true.

For as long as I can remember

I’ve been waiting here for you.

You were a thought I had when I was young…

A wish that persevered…

A dream that reached perfection

the day when you appeared…

There may come a time..a moment in your life

before your childhood is through

When you might stop and wonder

when I first fell in love with you.

I’m not sure how it happened

I’m not sure how I knew

But there has always been a place in my heart

I had reserved for you.

A place both warm and comforting

where my love for you survived…

And there it waited patiently

for the day you would arrive…

I’ve had years of love stored up for you…

waiting for the day our lives would intertwine…

and the truth is…

I did not fall in into your love…

you fell into mine.