The road, friendly, inviting
my wandering feet around the next bend,
and the next.

The brook, joyful, singing
simply within its rugged banks
freshly greened.

The sunshine, penetrating, reaching
into cold soul-yearnings
of darkness.

The air, fresh, awakening
heart-thoughts caught on cobwebs
until each thread gives way
one by one.

The sky, behind silvery tree-fingers;
the sky, over all,
so deep,
going on forever
into the eye of God.

From a walk down by the river
Keynote Ladies’ Retreat
Nashville, Indiana 1-26-06

(Unfortunately, I don't have a photo from the day I took this walk when the sky was a dark crystal blue, but I've included a couple pictures from other days of similar settings.)


Please leave comments suggesting a title. I just can't decide!

Tree Flowers

There are flowers on the trees. Not brilliant splashes of color like the crocus in my garden, but deep red bunches, each individual bloom the size of a small pea, covering the ends of every small twig of these trees. From a distance they might be mistaken for last year's berries, not fresh growth announcing the birth of a new season after the death of winter.

Their under-stated beauty appeals to me. While contributing to the cycle of life by eventually producing scads of those twirling helicopter seeds, each one is delicately radiant. The rich red color that originally attracted me, covers the surface of a solid green base-every one a mini-powerhouse of activity adding to the high pollen count this week no doubt!

There are no showy petals like the tulips will soon wear in order to cajole bees to visit and provide transport for their pollen. How are the tree-flowers pollinated? I didn't see bees on the branches or hear the steady hum that will soon surround our crabapple tree when every branch bursts into bloom. I wonder if the wind does the work?

Spring winds, full of new warmth when the earth is still cool, blow life back into my soul while touching my cheeks with roses. They blow away the soggy wetness from the melting snow and spring rains that washed off the filmy dust-dirt of winter, allowing the earth to be new again.

Soon the tree flowers will fall making rusty puddles on the path. But today they are brilliant against the infinitely blue sky-simple, full of life, and beautiful.

Given the choice of all the flowers, I'd be a tree-flower.