In the Middle Part

story

It started well – the action’s pace

And characters behaved.

The dialogue was natural,

Each scene what reader craved.

The villain entered right on cue,

But there, the thickened plot

Unravelled all the ends at once,

Derailed your train of thought.

You turn the pages, heart in throat,

Each word spells tragedy;

The flyleaf didn’t caution you,

Predict your destiny.

The Witches charm, Deep Evil lurks,

The Wrong upsets the right;

The Bad Guys go from Worse to Foul,

And Dark absorbs all light.

Anxiety hits fevered pitch,

But each word you devour

Reveals more loathsome characters,

Or strips you of your power.

In anguish, trembling fingers clutch

The closure that’s been penned;

You must, you must, you must find out

What happens in the end.

But oh, dear reader, pause a while,

Breathe every phrase in peace;

You’re only in the middle part,

Where havoc is released.

Your anxious soul would skip this bit,

To save your heart from harm –

But if you skim this episode,

You’ll miss your story’s charm.

The overthrow of villainy,

The chains that break in time,

Heroic actions, victories

That kill each awful crime.

So slow it down and read each word,

Your story is not done;

This chapter is not you, my friend –

Your best is yet to come.

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As the Wheel Turns

yellow aspen (1)

 

And the colour wheel cranks out

its liturgy – opposites 

make the best bedfellows,

draw out the richest blooming.

.

So too this heart, when double

crushed, rises atmospheric

to negate the blow. So too 

this spirit, pinned to velvet

specimen case, dead carcass

to be pitied, inspected,

finds truest freedom within

its prison walls, flying high

above those who would take it

captive, coerce dignity,

boxing it in mere metal

and glass. Deepest pain reflects

truest beauty, once redeemed.

.

And the colour wheel cranks out

its curriculum – bluest 

skies display the purest gold.

 

The Gleaning

canary seed

When your shoulders, bending low beneath their heavy load,

Bow defeated with the weight of what your day’s bestowed,

Lift your eyes above the waves, set down your raging fears ;

Pregnant with a harvest-hope, your gleaning time appears.

************************************************************

Canary seed soon to be gleaned…

Afterward

cotoneaster brilliance

 

Unless you’re crushed, you cannot be poured,

Unless you’re struck, we can’t hear your chord;

Unless you’ve bled, you can’t feel my pain;

Unless you freeze, your colours are plain. 

******************************************

It is only after the frost that our world puts on a show. 

Hang in there – your best is yet to come….

Knowing and Believing

icyorb.jpg

Dates and calendars herald Spring’s approach.

She knows it will come –

she believes in the Oracle

who promised Winter’s demise.

But knowing

and believing

leave her cold today,

in the shivering places

where soul must hang in the tense balance

between what is and what will be.

Reality is,

while her rescue is certain,

her ‘now’ is cold,

her present wrapped up in ice.

She must find a way

to keep her hope warm

until she can sing

Winter’s dirge…

You’ve Kept Your Head

frosty chives

You’ve kept your head where others failed,

when they fell down, your faith prevailed,

so don’t lose heart as winter wanes,

your ‘Well done!’ waits where hope remains.

The Light You Seek

trellis detail

The golden glow of better days

hovers there, just out of gaze;

lift one more prayer, raise one more peek,

and you will find the light you seek.

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For more on this topic, visit Growing With God in my Garden