The Heart of A Poet


Beside my cottage door it grows,

The loveliest, daintiest flower that blows,

A sweet briar rose.

At dewy mourn or twilight’s close,

The rarest perfume from it flows,

This strange wild rose.

But when the rain-drops on it beat,

Ah, then, its odors grow more sweet,

About my feet.

Offtimes with loving tenderness,

Its soft green leaves I gently press,

In sweet caress.

A still more wondrous fragrance flows

The more my fingers close

And crush the rose.

Dear Lord, oh, let my life be so

Its perfume when tempests blow,

The sweeter flow.

And should it be Thy blessed will,

With crushing grief my soul to fill,

Press harder still.

And while its dying fragrance flows

I’ll whisper low, He loves me and knows

His crushed briar rose.

                                            author unknown to me..


Blue Smiles Today


Stephanie over at Life With a Yellow Bike inspired me to put air in Blue’s tires and go for a ride. The sun was out all day. The sky held a few wispy clouds and there was a slight breeze. Yellow bike has had a lot of adventures and Stephanie offers plenty of good reading about their outings. I highly recommend a visit, when you have some time. It has been brought to my attention that there are people here at WordPress that have needs. I won’t be specific but there are hurting hearts, there is illness and then there are needs that animals have too.. Sometimes I wonder how different our world would be if people truly looked out for one another.. May the  season of winter not be a forecast of what is in your heart, may there be plenty of sunshine and laughter to get you through to spring.




DSCN0434In a wave of emotion, Hank had laid the letter on Mollie’s worn bible. Having it visible brought him some comfort. Her quiet time in the morning had always been her first priority.  She did her best to be up before the birds and before the pitter- patter of little feet could  be heard, and she continued this practice into the teenage years of their children. Thanksgiving Day went by like any other day. The pain in his right shoulder, instigated by too many falls off horses in his younger years had caught up with him. No amount of whiskey or Ben Gay brought relief. He settled himself in his easy chair and prepared for what might come from reading the letter.

DSCN0550He had been afraid to read the contents, and as he slowly read each word of the sweet simple letter, years of pent-up emotion spilled out like a dam that had burst. The tears came from the depth of his soul where nothing, nor no one could reach in the past few years. After a matter of minutes he was able to gain his composure and took in a  few deep breaths. He felt as though a weight had been lifted and a sense of peace overcame him. So, Kayleigh and Libby were following in their grandpa’s footsteps. He recalled the times he played the fiddle for the girls when they were just toddling about, sometimes following him into his workshop where he spent numerous hours building and repairing violins.

IMG_1880He had not been in the shop for years. When Mollie departed, he lost interest in music, his reason for living was gone. Gone was the laughter, the singing and the smell of bread baking in the old stove. Why, he had asked God over and over again.  Hearing of his granddaughter’s interest in music sparked a light within him that hadn’t been there for a long time.

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

Psalm 51:17


Whose Heart

DSC_0032My heart has been moved after finding out that a young mother whom we have only met one time, lost a child, in a car accident not too long ago. When I heard this my heart has been silently crying for her.  As Mother’s Day approaches and many of us are thinking  of a loved one, I am thinking of the one’s that are grieving for a child that they will see no more. The following are spur of the moment words, from my heart.

let me, put me, on the shelf, Lord

and put pity party aside

put worldly and empty chatter

away, Lord

and walk along your side

take away the vanity

and all of the insanity

thinking I am so entitled

to what, really

does not matter

let me, put me, on the shelf, Lord

and may I walk with those in pain

may I put on Compassion

which often is not the fashion

for these trying and dark days

put me, on the shelf, Lord

and my selfish desires be put away

so I will see with new eyes

who needs a helping hand each day..

So I write with heart-felt words for those that hurt and are in sorrow, for a loss, or for a prodigal child that you are missing.. I weep with you today…


You Are Not Alone


This post is a tribute to those that I have come to know through the world of blogging. Some of you have experienced hardship and loss and today I commend you on your tenacity to push through the hurt and sorrow. There is beauty and strength in the bond of friendship. Knowing that we have a shoulder to lean on is a blessing.