Poetry

Brave Boy

A little boy comes to the neighbor next door on Saturday mornings, at first listen you would be tempted to think he is a brat. My old girl and I know differently, and we wait for him with delight.  

Brave Boy 

He comes each Saturday morning

to the neighbor’s house next door,

this brazen boy of wonder.

 

Once the car door opens,

his insistent voice

commands the air.

 

He battles imaginary monsters.

Holding sticks and stones,

in cupped hands.

 

Curtains flutter in the open window,

the old girl’s nose quivers against the screen.

She watches him, breathing him in.

 

He begins happy,

laughing, running, stomping, yelling,

she and I know it will not last long.

 

Old girl whimpers at the window

with knowing,

her brows set in worried frown.

 

A bee sting, a fall, a frustration

His cries will come on cue.

She and I sand, silhouettes in the window,

breathing sighs of relief, when brave boy runs once again.

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Poetry

An Open Window

I have had my eyes open to daily delights these past months.  They lift my spirits, change my perspective and stir hope.  May we open our eyes friends, to the sounds, the smells, the sights all around us and then simply give thanks, to the Maker of it all.

An Open Window

The window sits wide open,

curtains ruffle in the wind.

The breath of life is slowly drifting in.

 

The fluttering of wings,

joins chorus of a calling crow,

beating in time with chirps and coos.

 

The crackling of moving tires

A train horn far in the distance,

the rhythm of wheels on tracks.

 

The sound of someone mowing,

then the sweet aroma of freshly cut grass.

 

The delight of children’s treasure,

at a yard sale down the street.

 

I lay near the open window,

Closing my eyes, breathing in,

As the breeze tickles my feet.

 

I glory there for a moment

In the sounds and the smells,

You see, life is calling, to wake up once again.

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