187. The gardener’s feet drag a bit on the dusty path and the hinge in the back is full of creaks. ~Louise Seymour Jones

Pleasures lie thickest where no pleasures seem:
There’s not a leaf that falls upon the ground
But holds some joy of silence or of sound,
Some spirits begotten of spring and summer dreams.
~Adapted excerpt from Laman Blanchard


Birds that annually flee our area before winter arrives have already headed out on their migratory treks to warmer havens.  Thus, the number of avian guests in my yard is considerably smaller, and those that are still here have let up on their frantically busy doings in the garden.  The remainder of my “flock,” like me, are sometimes content to just perch a bit in idle watchfulness.  But despite our combined and periodic lethargy, the birds and I continue to greet our days with delight and a kind of expectancy even though we know old man Winter has left his arctic haunts and is headed down our way.

But now the LORD my God has given me rest on every side, and there is no adversary or disaster.  -1 Kings 5:4   ✝

The Old Couple in the Park

His poem is exceptional. It is full of insight, understanding and compassion. I’m simply amazed and blessed by his words. Natalie


With trembling hands she reaches,
she reaches just to touch his face
where trembling melts in sweet caress,
caress strokes soul in sweetest grace.

Through wrinkled eyes he looks to her,
to her, his queen, his love, his wife.
Feels her warmth in aging hands,
aging hands that share his life.

She feels the stubble cross his cheek,
his cheek that’s aged and thinly drawn.
Into his eyes she deeply falls,
deeply falls where love’s been long.

He smiles into her tender eyes,
tender eyes of angel’s love.
He softly strokes her aging hand,
her aging hand light as a dove.

She smiles, he winks,
he winks, she beams,
she beams, he shines
and into love they fall it seems.

Gently aging beauty
when held transfixed by soul,
by soul in love eternal,
in aging ne’er one grows old.

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