I Remember

I Remember

I remember the hoot of an owl

coming from the ancient woods

on a clear winter night, the crackle

of dry leaves as some small creature sought

refuge, and the moon, shining like a spotlight,

on two lost souls who had found each other.

Quadrille #219 – A Poetic Hootenanny

Finding Grace

Finding Grace

I never liked my name. Candace

Grace is

too fancy, too grand for my

simple

soul, that loves the sound of birds

and the

glow of moonbeams dancing through my

open

window in the darkness. This is where my

heart is

content and my spirit can sing along in harmony to

its key

Spring Again

Next week it will be Spring

again

The crocus and daffodils, that waited beside the

tulips

for the slanting sun rays to warm the earth,

will bloom

and dull winter birds will put on their best feathers

looking

for mates and building nests, never doubting miracles –

like hope