Winter Wonder

                              Photo from Google Images

Hail to the raindrops
and iced covered pretty lakes;
Snow fogged up mountains
and lash licking snow flakes.

Hail to the bear cubs
snuggled cozy in slumber;
curled up next to mama bear,
the safest place to lumber.

Hail to those pretty trees
with their leaves still green.
An evergreen in winter land
is a such beautiful scene.

Hail to the young tykes
and as well to the old;
Playing football in the snow,
making snow angels in the cold.

Hail to the winters blessings
soaking into winter ground.
Your efforts will bring beauty
when Spring comes around.

Hail to this winter season
and to this very moment,
And mostly, to Mother Earth,
for she's the crucial component.

*winters blessings to all*

That being said....c'mon Spring!

Little Byrdie - Fly Home

Linda Kay was born one day in Nineteen Thirty-Nine.

As the fourth child of twelve in all she proudly took her place in line.

Vohnell, Herbert and Jerry came first, followed by Linda Kay.

She brought such joy to life; each day to her was a blessed day.

Charles and Larry joined them next. then Deloris and Mary came too.

Shelia and Phillip; Myrna and Betsey—oh, how their family grew.

The stories and laughter shared by all made memories along the way.

We'd like to share a story or two about our beloved Linda Kay.

A younger Kay once tricked her way out of getting mason jars clean.

She said, "You should do it" to younger Dee, because your hands are smaller and lean.

A trip once to the Memphis Hospital led to her meeting Elvis - The King!

The right time and the right place—so lucky to be in that hospital wing.

The story of Elvis and others too, she told her tales and they were many.

She used her imagination well and could spin a story, even out of a penny!

Niece Teresa remembers Aunt Kay on an Arkansas trip of blackberry picking.

And has memories of river float trips too, plus family reunions with talking and sitting.

Dishing out love in food and hugs her potato salad was the best.

Yet her special ingredient was TLC, which made it a step above the rest.

Kay never met a stranger and her heart was filled with such love.

She made you feel so special, like God had sent her to you from above.

She loved her God and read her bible and she even read Christian romances too.

She adored pink and red carnations; yet, give her a teddy bear - she'll forever love you!

In the Swift Ditch and the Current River she taught so many little ones to swim.

She loved cards; rummy, crazy 8's and Canasta and she played with a card sharks grin.

Niece Connie remembers dear Aunt Kay as the wind beneath her wings;

and she'll cherish every moment at her memorial as she sings.

Kay's time on Earth wasn't long enough and we hated to let her go.

We wanted to hang on to her, she had brightened our lives so.

Yet in the end we knew we must give her the wings she needed to fly.

We told her it was okay to go as we wiped the tears from our eyes.

Our Little Byrdie, fly on home, your mission here is through;

and while you rest in Heaven please remember, we love you.

In Memory of my dear friend Connie Lueke's Aunt Kay

Linda Kay Byrd

Oct. 2, 1939 - Jan. 22, 2011

Momma Bird

                       Photo from Google Images 

Momma birds guide our young
and pray that we may teach them,
all they'll ever need to learn and grow.

But truth be told we must let go
and release our young to the wild,
even though it sometimes tortures us so.

Letting go and giving that push
breaks a mothers heart,
we only do it out of sheer despair.

Contrary to how it may feel
in the perception of some minds,
we only do it because we truly care.

'Twas the week before Christmas

                      Photo from Google Images

'Twas the week before Christmas
and all through my mind,
danced visions and memories
from a previous time.

The time in my life when dad was alive,
the things that were Christmas to him.
Boxes of chocolate covered cherries,
how dad would dive right into them.

Searching for slippers high and low,
not any old slippers would do.
Dad wore slippers like shoes,
so Christmas would bring him a pair brand new.

Old fashioned fudge was always a must,
and chocolate covered peanut butter balls.
Frosted sugar cookies and hot cocoa too,
and Christmas bliss decking the halls.

We hung Christmas cards on the back of our door
and would read them over and over.
From aunts and uncles and grandparents too,
with pictures of cousins growing quicker than clover.

Christmas Eve would find us all together,
dad and his three growing kin.
After Midnight Mass at church,
we would gather at home again.

Santa would come while we were away,
leaving gifts under the tree.
We'd have hot cocoa and warm sticky buns,
then open our presents with glee.

At the center of all of this cheer,
we never forgot Christ in the meaning.
Christmas comes with peace and hope,
and the best gift of love is a blessing.

Four White Mugs

                 Photo from Google Images

Four white mugs
hanging from their hooks,
above the kitchen sink.

They've held many things
within their depths,
and not just things to drink.

On the front of each
a memory lives,
faded, yet full of dreams.

A photo from when
it was brand new,
before liquid warmed its seams.

On the first mug
a reminder of dad,
and my childhood memories.

A diesel truck,
called a Peterbuilt,
and stains inside from coffee beans.

On the second mug,
my baby boy,
barely new and sucking a binky.

He's now eighteen,
with bigger things,
than a toy truck and a silver slinky.

The third mug,
is devoted to love,
and second chances brand new.

With little hearts,
and words of hope
it signifies love found between two.

The fourth mug
holds nothing at all,
no pictures just lots of attending.

Hot toddy when sick,
eggnog for Santa
and hot tea for tummy tending.

These mugs have held
more than drinks,
they've also held hugs and tears.

And no matter how much
they age and fade,
they'll be kept all through the years.

Wishing Well for Life

                    Picture from Google Images

A wishing well . . .
I thought would be great,
encouraging all to participate.

A virtual well . . .
drop in coins and dreams.
My mission you see, is more than it seems.

I wear a hat . . .
It has so many faces.
They show my survival and the tell-tale traces.

A survivor . . .
With the traces it left on me.
And the scars it left on my family.

A chair person . . .
'Relay for Life' with a passion.
Proud to support in our local fashion.

Online coordinator . . .
twitter, facebook and more.
I'll rally for a cure, its what we fight for.

Team Captain . . .
I proudly cheer on my crew.
You do it for me, I'll do it for you.

A little reminder . . .
Were here to raise money.
To find a cure and save somebody's honey.

A wishing well . . .
Sits before you and me.
Drop in your coins, hope is free.

--------

My friend Heather needed my help. She needed a poem that explained her role with her local Relay for Life.

This poem is written from her view....

Childhood Magic

 

                       Photo from google images

Magic to me was Mr. Bojangles,
with his big rig diesels he drove
and those twinkling bright blue eyes.

Bojangles they called him on the CB Radio
but to us he was know as our dad.
A man who loved burgers and fries.

I learned to climb like a monkey
up into and all around that truck.
I simply could not get enough.

A rough and tumble tom-boy,
who loved working with my dad.
I wasn't scared to be greasy and tough!

The trips were adventures
on the white lined highway.
Honking the horn here and there.

I'd flash lights at the passing trucks
with the toggle switch on the dash,
as they would pass us with care.

The people we would meet
in truck stops along the way,
just loved to entertain tots.

There once was a  nice man
who made music with spoons,
Oh, how I liked him, lots!

Sometimes we would stop and see,
people we loved, our family.
It was nice seeing people we knew.

I talked dad into that puppy
while at Aunties in Sacramento.
Then, in the truck, he pooped in dads shoe!

Then that time in Des Moines, Iowa,
a rare time we stayed in a motel.
It had a pool and I just knew I could swim.

I jumped in the deep end
and floundered a bit too long
and poor dad, fully dressed, jumped in.

I will never forget the magic,
the memories and the adventures,
of my childhood life with my dad.

And even though he's now passed on
he lives on in my heart and my soul,
as the best childhood magic I had.

 

~~~~~

Written for Think Tank Thursday - Nov. 4th

The real magic wand is the child’s own mind

~Jose Ortega y Gasset

To a child magic is amazing possibilities, to a romantic it’s what happens when you fall in love and to a scientist it is something to be scoffed at, magic is something to everyone. What is magic to you?

It could be a familiar smell that brings back a memory, maybe it is silence to a frazzled mother or it might be the wonders of technology, any way you look at it magic means something to everyone. This week use your pen as a magic wand and share with us the magic in your world.