There's So Much We Can't Explain

Photo by Rita Bourland © 2012

There’s So Much We Can’t Explain

I was touched by a moment of grace today.  It came at an unexpected time as these things often do.  I was returning home after attending the funeral of a five month old baby.  It was tragically sad.  The pain of the parents, the pain of the grandparents and other family members was deep and raw.  I drove home with a heavy heart thinking of the dear young couple who suffered this profound loss.

There’s so much we can’t explain.

The weather was beautiful.  As I neared my neighborhood, I glanced up at the sky and saw something I will always remember.  The endless blue sky was broken by a few wispy clouds; clouds that seemed to be the work of a master painter.  But then something caught my eye.  There was one cloud formation that was brilliantly colored.  The wisps were streaked with red, blue, purple and green.  I looked for a rainbow.  There was none.  I looked at the other clouds.  They were all perfectly white.  I looked back at the colorful cloud.   It was shaped like some magical bird or angel with colors so stunning that I pulled to the side of the road to gaze without interruption.  

I decided to rush home, grab my camera and try to capture the image.  By the time I got the camera and headed back outside, the cloud was gone. 

A fleeting moment of grace, an angel painted in the sky, a baby’s death.

There’s so much we can’t explain.

Poem - Come Dance with Me

 Come Dance with Me

There’s always one

at a wedding;

a whirling dervish of a child

spinning in circles on the dance floor,

hearing some internal muse,

feeling a musical beat

in her primal soul,

oblivious to time, to place,

 released,

unhinged,

caught in a swirl

of

 fancy dresses,

flowers, ribbons,

hopefulness,

brimming, spilling into the day,

grown-ups crying, laughing,

dancing,

kissing,

confusing, bemusing,

enticing

to a child,

spinning like a dervish,

full of joyous abandon,

saying look at me

and you will see what life can truly be,

come dance with me

and you will see.

R.I.P. Dear Coffee Maker

Photo by Rita Bourland © 2012

R.I.P. Dear Coffee Maker

We lost our dearly beloved coffee maker today.  It sprang a spring from some inner valve, no longer able to push steaming water through the grounds.   I purchased this Krups coffee maker over 15 years ago for my husband.  He had become a latte lover or lover of lattes whichever phrase you prefer – bottom line – I had a hunch he would enjoy making lattes.  Besides bringing our three wonderful sons into the world, it was probably the best gift I ever gave him

He delighted in preparing each cup.   He placed just the right amount of coffee into the filter, poured water into the water cavity and then waited for the perfect moment to turn the steamer on.  His cup stood at the ready with just enough milk for perfect frothing.  It was so simple, so successful an endeavor that we all quickly became converts.  Guests were seduced with the offer of a latte.  It even came with us for a summer wedding in Indiana where we had rented a cabin with 10 other people.  The early morning line formed behind the Krups - numbers were taken.

The design was flawless, the function reliable, the coffee so superb that we were lulled into a sense of security, thinking our machine would be with us always.  We took for granted its can do spirit, its work ethic, its ever ready stance.  Sure, we had to purchase a new glass carafe on two occasions, but it was the basic machine we relied on for our morning coffee.

Just in the last couple of months we had talked about the inevitable day when the machine might die, no doubt cursing our fate. 

We have begun our search.  Krups still has a machine that looks similar to what we lost, but nothing will ever fully replace the old tried and true.  

My parents had machines they could repair and find parts for – they took pride in owning them for decades.  It was inspiring to watch my father dismantle a clock or radio and later find it working again.  The same was true for lawn mowers, cars and vacuums.  This little Krups machine reminded me of those good old days. 

So tomorrow will come but coffee will have to wait for a sad drive to a coffee shop.  Speaking into the drive thru window I will say, “One medium, skim latte, please.”  Until our new machine arrives, we will be scouring the city for a cup of coffee that resembles the latte delights we prepared in our own kitchen. 

 R.I.P. dear coffee maker.  You served us well. 

Poem: Candle Glow

Photo by Rita Bourland © 2012

Candle Glow 

I light a candle most evenings,

striking a match

I touch it ever so lightly

 to the ready wick,

waiting for the flame,

anticipating the glow,

the shadows,

 the casting out of darkness,

a candle mesmerizes,

entices with

a subtle flicker,

stirring a desire to speak softly,

spreading comfort with a golden glow,

it melts slowly,

like colors fading

at sunset over the distant horizon,

I never tire of lighting a candle

in the evening.

Poem: All I Can Do

 All I Can Do

I turned on the TV today

To see what the newsmen might say,

They talked about war and political strife,

About murders and guns; the worst stuff of life,

I started to frown, then worry set in;

It seemed like I’d watched this again and again,

It’s bringing me down - all the negative news,

I need to step out; take in some new views,

I might take a walk ‘round the path in the park,

Watch the sun set; stay out after dark,

I’ll look at the stars and say a short prayer,

I’ll send up a wish for folks everywhere,

All I can do is the best that I can,

At the end of the day that is true for each man,

We have to find balance in all that we do,

We still need the news,

But we need

 all the good wishes too.

Poem: It's a Dastardly World

I recently heard a speaker discuss the many negative influences in our society – the things that challenge our moral compasses.  While making his point, he used several words that begin with the letter ‘D’.  It set me to thinking about words that begin with ‘D’ and I was off and running with a delicious array of dastardly words.  How could I resist writing a poem?  

Watch out for those ‘D’ words.  They’re a dangerous bunch. 

 It's a Dastardly World

It’s a dastardly world

full of doom and despair,

don’t linger in doorways

don’t wait on the stair,

for danger can lurk

In the strangest of places

with dull disregard

it makes ‘come hither’ faces,

the devil himself

might shrink from the dark

where nefarious deeds

can demean a pure heart,

where decadent acts

 defile the soul,

defeat with deceit,

deny what is whole,

with my dagger

in hand I’ll prove what is just,

I’ll battle the doom

 ‘til it dies in the dust,

it’s a dastardly world

full of doom and despair,

be watchful,

be brave,

be doubtful,

beware,

for the devil himself sometimes weeps in despair.

Poem: An Easter so Fair

 

Photo by Rita Bourland

An Easter so Fair

There once was an Easter so fair,

it felt like the holiest prayer,

I sang a sweet hymn

in honor of Him,

I prayed there be peace everywhere.

 * I generally try to avoid politics and religion on my blog because I have a deep respect for individuals' personal beliefs.  I hope when you read this poem you will consider it a universal prayer for the good of the world.  Happy Easter!

Poem: It's Easy to Miss a Miracle

Goggle Image

It's Easy to Miss a Miracle  

It’s easy to miss

a miracle,

like a moment

of unbidden grace,

it arrives unannounced,

dropping into your life

like soft, spring rain,

brushing your cheek with

a tender kiss,

not asking to be

the star,

just a miracle so quiet 

you might miss

it altogether

save for the subtle shift

in the air

suddenly imbued

with a taste so sublime

you might think

 it was spiced

with nectar from the heavens,

that taste, that moment

so rare,

is a miracle just for you.