Birds of the Air

Winged love flitters and lands
in green leaves of comfort;
dines on berries and fallen petals
and flies south for the winter
clothed in feather
and the warmth of his love,

so how much more love
has he for us;
how much more warmth?

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. am writing a poem a day from November 25- December 25th to celebrate the birth of Jesus. This is day 4 . This is the 6th year that I have done this and it is a blessing.

For King David

Of all the books;
the journeys,
I admire yours the most.
In the middle of chaos,
you sang, played the lyre,
danced without a care,
even in the valley.

When I get there,
I hope to find you,
my favorite poet
reciting psalms;
your instrument
in accompaniment.

after all that time,
still chasing
after his own heart.

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I am writing a poem a day from November 25- December 25th to celebrate the birth of Jesus. This is day 3 . This is the 6th year that I have done this and it is a blessing.

Reel Me In

Down this long road,
carry me like tumbleweeds,
scattered, like your love,
unconditional, never lacking,
present when they weren’t,
when I’m not.

In this valley, bring me flowers,
from this seed you planted,
carve a map in the sand,
leave crumbs of wisdom
for me to find.

On the mountain,
reel me in,
pull me close,
show me my heart
so I will never forget
to love.

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I am writing a poem a day from November 25- December 25 to celebrate Jesus birth. his is day 2. This is the 6th year I have done this and it is such a blessing ❤

I Could Make a List

I tried to rest in thanksgiving,
but, words get caught in my throat,
images flash through my mind
of birth, death, joy, sorrow;
of miracles, mountains and valleys.

Through it all,
one thing remains,
imperishable, undefiled,
immeasurable; your love-

one single light in the distance
leading me home.

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I am writing a poem a day from November 25, 2021 through December 25, 2021 to celebrate the birth of Jesus. This is my 6th year of doing this series and I feel so blessed!❤️

Tongue-tied

Why can’t I speak
the words written so easily;
these walls
I can’t seem to break through,
these syllables
caught in the pit of my stomach
swirling hearts, unspilled,
on the tip of the tongue,
teasing like butterflies
that flutter passionately
but never rest.

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Grounding

Left like she came in
tiptoeing through violets,
in her head, inconspicuous,
dancing to her own (heart) beat,
poetry in her shoes
just following the sun.

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Mistaken For a Weed

It’s ironic
how beauty blooms
through pain;

how strength
flourishes

in the fall.

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Scattered

Remnants
of your words;

syllables tossed
blossom like seeds,
to help me find my own.

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When Words Fail Me

No poem
is worthy of you;
no words to exemplify;
to proclaim my love,
so, all I can do is testify;

No song
can encompass
the magnitude of your grace,
a potter’s hands molding me
from tattered clay
to shining vase.

No poem
is worthy of you
a strong tower,
a work of art
my rock, my Lord,
my Savior,
so I give to you, my heart.

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