blossom song…

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There’s a river of glad in these petals,
deep veins of song,
and I’m rich because of their music,
how they swirl their poetry generous over my eyes
till my spirit is humming along

about how sweet the way of seasons,
of sunshine and shadow,
and their joy invites me lean in close
and listen to their lasts,
like wise ones so full of living,  at the end,
who murmer grateful about how faithful the love
that kept them,

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how wasteful the rush,
how needless the worry,
how glad for even the hard wind blowing
that gave them their chutzpa
and stirred their muchness bright,
their colors twirling praise
for the grace that walks them home

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and as their song trickles down peace,
I catch a glimpse of the old woman of me,
many years from now,
her seasoned eyes shining with the memory
of my still-to-come,
humming that it had been good to be,
that there had been nothing to fear,
God had had this all along,

and this journey,  every second of it mine,
not to strive,
but to enjoy.

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This post is available in my etsy shop (on the sidebar),
poured out in art
on prints bound with simple twine
to gift or display.
There are several there now to choose from
(and a batch in the oven- so. much. fun)

I drew two names from the pot
for the giveaway
(huge thanks for all of those wonderful suggestions
~holding them close to heart and marinating)

it’s joy to send a bundle to
Kathy of Paper Pumpkin
and
Lee Ann of Encouragement is Contageous

Big thanks for the kindness and  support.
With all my heart I love you all.

the days were golden…

just this,  dear friend,
from my heart to yours.

 the words didn’t find me this week
but I wanted to paint you joy

and to share the way
the last of the zinnias hold the sun
soft and close
showing us how
to soak it in
for the cold,  gray days to come

and just look at all this gold
~see how rich we are?

~and brave,
we’re braver than we know.

October has pounded on me hard
so  I’m few of words
but richer  in love
and braver than before.

“Love is vivid.  I never wanted the pale version.
Love is full strength.  I never wanted the diluted version.
I never shied away from love’s hugeness
but I had no idea that love could be as reliable as the sun.”
-Jeanette Winterson

linking up with some gorgeous orangeness
at
lorik’s luscious
LorikArt

brushstrokes and blessing….

there is blessing stretching out to brush you,  friend,
for fresh firm grace
to relax
into the time enough,
to stretch out spacious,

to rest into the plenty enough
to cover and fill
every place of need,

to breathe into  space enough
for all your thoughts
to settle gentle,

to lean into healthy connection enough
for living waters
to refresh your spirit strong,

for face pressed into  comfort enough
to see the brilliance flickering
in the dark.

to journey on wrapped in love enough
to weather whatever,
peaceful and grateful
for another day
to do joy,
joy that is enough.

Can you feel the brushstrokes?

“Trust is the fruit of a relationship
in which you know you are loved.”
W. Paul Young
(The Shack)

Several have mentioned how Spring-like these photos.  These beauties are actually an Autumn specialty
where I live…..wild and unruly,  they spill down embankments like rogue waves
on all the backroads I travel.  It’s hard to stay in the car.
Sometimes I want to just park and walk for miles alongside
this sea of smiling faces.

linking up with Sandra to get still, go slow,  and savor.

(I can’t get badges to work right now for some reason.  It’s on the list…..it’s on the list.)

of grasses and gold….

The green and grassy fields are browning,
summer’s wild things bursting into seed
and I walk among them now and listen,
the whispering places,
all breezy and waving and whooshing
as Autumn sings her brave songs.

about how there is grace in endings
a re-set to rest,
a keeping sails set
and waiting for  winds
that will come
to work their  mystery

and somehow they know
there  are  seeds of life
in letting go
and I stop and let Autumn brush
her golden wisdom
over the clay of me.
because I want to be,

a friend of her unworried ways
and un-driven days
and give her  plenty of space
inside this soul of mine
and so I lean in close
to feel what she knows

and off roll some fears
I’ve been keeping
and my care-worn shoulders go calm
and dread slides slowly
slowly
down
into dry grass
and  gold.

And,  hey friend,  when you leave a comment
I always come around to visit your blog
and leave you some love.
If your blog is wordpress but not self hosted,  my comments tumble into your spam folder
until you go in there and “allow” one.
Then they’re free to find you.
If you’re a wordpress blog,  check and see if you have
other legitimate comments in your spam folder.
(wordpress is tricky that way)
You may be missing some of the good stuff!

linking up with a beautiful blog hop over here 
at The Roural Journal
and also with wonderful Emily
at Imperfect Prose

spiritsong…

There’s a river of glad in these petals,
deep veins of song,
and I’m rich because of their music,
how they swirl their poetry
generous over my eyes
till my soul is humming along

about how sweet the way of seasons
and sunshine and shadow,
and as their joy invites me
lean in close
I listen to them sing their lasts

like wise ones so full of living
at the end
who murmur grateful
about how faithful the love that kept them,
how wasteful the rush,
how needless the worry
how glad for even the hard wind blowing
that gave them their chutzpa
and stirred their muchness bright.
.

Their colors twirlng praise
for the grace that walks them home
and as their song trickles down peace
I catch a glimpse
…the old woman of me
many years from now,
her seasoned eyes shining with the memory
of my still-to-come.

 And nodding that it had been so good  to be,
that  there’d been nothing to fear.
God had this….had it all along
and this journey,
every second of it mine
not to strive
but to enjoy
.