Archive | May 2014

Sometimes It Causes Me to Tremble

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I sip my morning tea and watch a tree of elfin

leaves a-quiver in a gentle breeze; and when the

winds whip up their strength to bluster through their

fragile lives, I watch them tremble fearfully;


as if they know the wind has

power unimagined in their tininess;

has traveled far beyond their

narrow ken—from Arctic cold,

perhaps, or from some arid desert strip;

spoken with the Bora, or the Mistral or the

Foehn; spoken in a thousand tongues to

whisper secrets of colossal power, of

fear, of joy audacious and immense.


No wonder, then, these wee leaves quiver at the

murmurs of this wind and tremble when

she boasts of all the hallowed marvels of this

world so vast and strange. Sometimes

she causes me to tremble too; tremble at the

power of Holy Wind that weaves this

fearsome, wondrous tapestry of life; tremble at the

tenderness of Ageless Wind who stepped one

day into our time and took on human hands,

hands open-nailed at Golgotha to reach and

hold us lovingly—each one of us,

               each tiny leaf,

                    each tiny life

a-quiver in the winds that sing their

joys and sadness through the

disappearing hours of our days.


Taste of Daffodil



So brave, my daffodils; as

chill winds blow across our yard, they

graceful bow and sway in dance

attuned to rhythms buried deep

beneath the soil; endure cold nights,

stand firm in cruel April days to

yellow winter browns and silent

shout their joy at fading icy frosts.


Tasty, too, my daffodils;

sipping from their sturdy cups, I

savor memories of youthful spring;

hand in hand with my beloved under

warm Midwestern skies, dreaming

fields of daffodils, endless, firm, and

bright, outshining all life’s winter woes.


We’ve had our share of golden blooms,

sufficient through the grays and

browns rough painted through our lives;

now autumn years; a mellowed

tang to daffodil; honeyed, holy

wine; floral sign and seal of

life beyond that’s rooted in an

ancient tomb that rolled away the

cold of death and planted in its stead the

promise of another spring when we will

hang our tears upon the stars; forever

dance with saints and daffodils.

in loving memory of my late brother-in-law Fred Bruin who now

forever dances with saints and daffodils


with gratitude for 52 years of life with my husband Merold