weeping sunflowers

Do sunflowers ever cry?

Remembering Ukraine

WHERE are your fields now
Oh weary ones of war?

Where once your faces

chased the sun!

Now artillery and

smoke have
hidden your smiles

Your golden vials

of oil
now broken
But down below the

hardened soil your
seeds are hidden
Your tears will
sprinkle meadows

bringing your

smiling faces back
once more
BUT when OH when

will this be?

When will this
nation Ever be set free?

The sunflower is Ukraine’s flower


unshaken

In an autumn field I walked
one day
The breeze blew upon the
trees

The poplar, beech and
willow providing shade
their leaves now in piles lay

But the old oak tree stands
alone fully dressed defying
the rest
Winds come from the east
north and west
The Oak tree. the last to lose its leaves
Not one leaf falls it is
left ‘Unshaken’
Standing below’ this
majestic tree surveying the
strength it is to me

I like the oak holding on to
the old must wait in His
time to make room for the
new – Until then I am left
Unshaken!


October’s child

October’s child is
bright and fair
golden leaves

woven through
her long auburn

hair


Midst apple orchards
pumpkins and squash
Sharing a bountiful

harvest

When suddenly

there is a chill
the clouds overhead
look scary and

dark
with empty fields
bare of berries and nuts
I am saddened

for asters and mums
as fallen petals weep

for lack
of sun
their seeds soon

sealed in coffins
of seeping sod
When she sees my tears
waving goodbye

For “While the earth

remains
seedtime and harvest
Cold and heat
winter and summer
and day and night
shall not cease” *

  • Book of Beginnings
  • Chapter 8:22 [ quote

the well chosen path

Before two paths I stood

One not chosen by many
and traveled by few

And one well traveled in green
grassy woods

. . . And I marveled at this

which one I should choose!

Then as if my shoes were
planted on the less traveled
path

. . . There was no question . . .

. . . Often many from the opposite
direction
would laugh and call me
a fool
And sometimes
I would doubt myself too

. . . Would I have chosen this
path on my own?

But for the lessons learned
I dare not question!


the poor man’s rose

Lisianthus
‘the thornless rose’

IN the rich man’s

plot where green

grass grows

Rows of roses

are carefully

hoed

But do you

know?

In the poor

man’s grove

there is a

simple rose

that grows

wherever it

goes

it has no

thorns to

harm my thoughts

nor question

my doubts

So this is the

rose I chose

for less is more

in the poor man’s

grove where the

simple rose grows

summer afternoons

SOMETIMES I wish I
could be a little
girl again
with red painted
nails and toes
a pretty pink
dress with ruffles
and bows
picking bouquets
chasing all my
problems away
Reminiscing of
those years as if
life was like a
kaleidiscope
chasing colors
with twists
and turns and
changing scenes
that vanish when

the turning stops
giving hope with
one more stop
of happy years to
come on a SUMMER
afternoon!



leaves

It happened while I was

sleeping, only yesterday

the branches were bare

Now an explosion of birth

a feud between leaves and

air

Whirling and spinning of

leaves

pushing the air aside a

million latching
teasing, reaching everywhere

A bird comes out to play

and when he sees the leaves

quicly flys away

The flowers nod their heads

and grin as the sun shifts

through the shade

AND

All this was going on while

I was sleeping!

the dandelion

WHO is this mother I
have layed to rest?
Poor helpless one who
wandered through
life leaving me behind

But remember she did
not have the tools to
help me survive
I became the mother
and she became the child

I think of all the flowers
I could place upon her
grave

The dandelion
and its tenacious ways
Its stubborn roots
midst dirt and clay
On tough green stems
clinging to life
When tough times came
Waving its
bright yellow face
In the end taught me
how to survive

SO lay down your sweet
head and rest!

Really mama I know
you did your best!


Mother’s Day May 2026

resting places

PRESSING on with hope
that what I cannot
see will one day come
to be
IN my youth I was driven
to excel in all things
given

In after years I am
slowly driven

All things in the
past forgiven
RESTING places
have arisen

THIS is new to be
here
I knew not things
would seem so clear
here

Laurl and the rose
I behold
I had no presence of
mind before to see
the beauty they hold

I am prone to share this
heavenly splendor

FOR though this will
here not forever linger

I seek one as I
to ever press on
together!


sandbox of time

Life is like a sandbox
an hour glass of passing
sand!

Each week they had a special
day to meet

Having such a good time
together, building sand
castles with queens and
kings, and every

Imaginable thing!

One day she became too busy

and forgot their special day
together
And now her bucket is too
heavy, her shovel full

of holes
Time filtering through her
hands with no place to go!


Don’t forget to come apart

and rest awhile!