The Stuff of Life

We traveled long miles to see a family member confined to bed, unable to walk. She's lain there for a year now, drifting in and out of sleep, her memories ebbing and flowing. Her days have condensed to a set of DVD's played again and again, to the nurse's visits, meal time, and the view from a window where chickadees gather around a feeder. What I find annoying -- gray rain driving against the windshield and blowing into my face whenever I leave the car at rest stops -- she would probably drink in as the stuff of life.

Journey

A train passes, ratcheting, whistling in the night to transport me from my bed.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Tango

Today I’m going to dance with life and see where it leads.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Wonderment

Children’s eyes

See marvels --

Creation born anew --

Wonderment

In each small

Everything.

Give me, Lord,

A child’s view.

 

© 1985 Janalyn Voigt

River Voices

Stones tumble and thump.

A fish jumps and plashes.

Wavelets overlap sucking mud.

A child laughs.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Helpers

Hands that strengthen mine I cannot despise, for they give more than they take.

© Janalyn Voigt

Grace

Harsh words spoken in haste cannot erase themselves without me.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Ghost Train

I pick up a rusted spike, passed to mine from a hand now dead. A trainless tunnel arches overhead. Rails and ties pass from memory to dust. Faint, a whistle sounds.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Storm Song

The thrum of rain in the gutters, the swish of tires on the street, the purr of my cat provide music enough.

© Janalyn Voigt

Majesty

The mountains stand sharp, edged in green. Storm clouds roil in a summer’s sky. An eagle soars. I gaze, but cannot hold them thus.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Focus

Cracks split the pavement and nurture weeds, but in the garden flowers bloom.

I choose my world.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Poetry

It comes at odd hours without warning. A word – a sentence – elusive as a butterfly. And I, imperfect net in hand, attempt its capture.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Busy Me

It seems I need another life just to keep up with this one.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

My Strawberries

Two snails, pulled from a ripe strawberry, earn a gratis trip to the yard waste container. A fat brown slug follows them. A beetle sees me coming and runs.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Garden Logic

I don’t know why God grew a gardener from one who weeps at a worm’s death.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Life Imitates Art

After plowing and planting a virtual farm, I looked out the window and saw weeds growing in my real garden. My fingernails are now dirty.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Morning Song

Birdsong chimed to wake me but drowned beneath a rush of commuter traffic.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Renewal

I love that every day is a new chance at things.

Technology

I’m chipping away at the great ice block of my technological ignorance, one small piece at a time.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Rain

Sparkling drops caress blossoms and wash clean the street. Seedlings in the garden revive. Tree roots drink deep. How can I complain?

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Marking Time

The clock ticks away in my office, like a measured heartbeat, punctuating each moment, marking every “now.” I must do the same.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Weeds?

A child’s protests stayed my hand and now the poppies bloom, for good or ill, in my garden.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Arc of Life

Each moment is born, lives and dies into the next.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Twilight

The sky glows purple-gray against dark trees.
Twilight carries its own mysteries and passage.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

Thirst

How can plants can survive so long without water?

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt

My To Do List

Day has died and, with it, all hope of achieving my overblown goals this day.

I look forward to tomorrow’s resurrection.

© 2009 Janalyn Voigt