Son rise
HE IS RISEN!
Easter Sunday’s joyful shout
we celebrate a risen Savior
thank you, Jesus
for all of it
March 27, 2016
circlin’ ‘round the block with Blue
in the brisk cold of December
the ground looks covered in stardust
just the grass glitterin’ from frost
not dust from the stars twinklin’ above
in a sky of the darkest black
there are extra lights a shinin’
in a myriad of colors and shapes
‘tis the season for Christmas lights
amidst the sparkling earth and heaven bright
in the stillness of early mornin’
tears threaten but do not fall
as I take in all the sights
the only sounds are boot falls on concrete
and the jinglin’ of my dog’s tags
as I circle the block with Blue
in the early morning hours
while the rest of the family is sleeping
on this December morn
December 11, 2012
I saw someone at church today
whom I haven’t seen in years
from opposites ends of the hallway
we met in the middle
as I drew within earshot
he said of me, ”She’s always smiling.”
I shook me head “no”
and said aloud, “not always”
he stated, “It’s not your husband with cancer.”
I countered with, “Yes. It is.”
him: “It’s pretty bad. Isn’t it?!”
me: “Stage 4. Two surgeries. Chemo now.”
him: “Is he bedridden?”
me: “Last summer for awhile,
with chemo and radiation simultaneously.
Workin’ light duty at a desk right now.”
him: “We’ve been praying, but we’ll pray harder”
me: “Thank you.
We know that’s what’s gettin’ us through.”
then we parted ways
he and his wife went one way
I went another
they are headed back to Michigan
to the church he’s senior pastor of
it was good to see him
on this Sunday morn
under the maple tree
the biggest tree in my backyard
sittin’ here on a Sunday mornin’
just me and my big Blue dog
we’ve been up since five
goin’ in and out of the house
and ‘round the block
on a pajama clad walk
coffee’s long gone
tryin’ to kept him quiet
while the rest of my family sleeps
even that cat
so here I sit
under the maple tree
in a quiet backyard
except for bird sound
and an occasional woof
shhhhh
people are sleeping
their windows are open
yet here we sit
two awake beings
under the maple tree
on a Sunday morn
time to go in
again