Air all full of singing

>>>>++<<<<

S h e l t e r i n g   I n   P l a c e

Eastern Cemetery

Louisville, Kentucky

>>>>++<<<<

april is a dog's dream
the soft grass is growing
the sweet breeze is blowing
the air all full of singing feels just right
so no excuses now
we're going to the park
to chase and charge and chew
and I will make you see
what spring is all about

> Marilyn Singer <

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Happy Tuesday

Command the color green

>>>>++<<<<

P i n k i n g   f o r   t h e  T h i n k i n g 

Dogwood in Bloom :: Springwood Cemetery

Greenville, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

I don’t know the Latin names of flowers.
I know that there are cities wherein stars

Will labor to appear in bursts of as
Or under, will command the color green

To work with from or of or in in staves
And paragraphs, will demarcate the limits

Of the sky. I recognize the colors
Of acacia from paintings and poems.

I know a high wind carries rhyme across
The ocean. That smoke, it coaxes signals

From the fire. What words you speak I too
Have spoken of: of of, the turning back,

The opening beyond and up above us,
The movement forward and the reasoning

Behind. I know that the horizon falls out
Of perspective, that toward music the sea 

Will harken back and find in language
No beauty save impermanence, a minor awe.

> Sara Nicholson <

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Happy Monday

To all the walking wounded

>>>>++<<<<

W a l k i n g   t h e   W a l k

Oakwood Cemetery

Raleigh, North Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

Israel's Deliverer, Divider of the sea
Conqueror of Jericho, Jehovah set them free
Some think of these as fables, with no relevance today
But God's past power never passed away

The Great I Am still is
The heavens and the earth are His
He's the merciful Almighty, forever holy
In everything we must remember this
The Great I Am still is

To all the walking wounded ones, who seek to make things right
For stranded souls in darkness, who long to see the light
For those who tread a troubled road and feel they can't go on
There's a promise we can stand upon

The Great I Am still is
The heavens and the earth are His
He's the merciful Almighty, forever holy
In everything we must remember this
The Great I Am still is

I can stand in every test
For the Great I Am still is
I can lose it all and still be blessed
For the Great I Am still is
I'm a sinner saved by grace because
The Great I Am still is
And I'm not today what I once was
For the Great I Am still is

The Great I Am still is
The heavens and the earth are His
He's the merciful Almighty, forever holy
In everything we must remember this
The Great I Am still is

 

> Cross/LaBar <

>>>>++<<<<

Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life:

no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.

> John 14:6 <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Sunday

Saluting in the road

>>>>++<<<<

W e a r   B e i g e   A n d   B l e n d

Green Mount Cemetery

Baltimore, Maryland

>>>>++<<<<

Upon Concluded Lives

There's nothing cooler falls --

Than Life's sweet Calculations --

The mixing Bells and Palls --

Makes Lacerating Tune --

To Ears the Dying Side --

'Tis Coronal -- and Funeral --

Saluting -- in the Road --

> Emily Dickinson <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Saturday

Time is a kind friend

>>>>++<<<<

A p r i l   L o v e

Old Sheldon Church Ruins

Yemassee, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold,
Let it be forgotten for ever and ever,
Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

If anyone asks, say it was forgotten
Long and long ago,
As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall
In a long forgotten snow.

> Sara Teasdale <

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Happy Friday

Decamped on the wind

>>>>++<<<<

L e t   M e   C a l l   Y o u   S t r e e t   A r t

Graffitied Alleyway

Knoxville, Tennessee

>>>>++<<<<

Who, who had only seen wings,
could extrapolate the
skinny sticks of things
birds use for land,
the backward way they bend,
the silly way they stand?
And who, only studying
birdtracks in the sand,
could think those little forks
had decamped on the wind?
So many paired things seem odd.
Who ever would have dreamed
the broad winged raven of despair
would quit the air and go
bandylegged upon the ground,
a common crow?

> Kay Ryan <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Thursday

Its feathers shine

>>>>++<<<<

C o n t e m p l a t i o n   S t a t i o n

Bonaventure Cemetery

Savannah, Georgia

>>>>++<<<<

The palm at the end of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze decor,

A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.

You know then that it is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.

The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird’s fire-fangled feathers dangle down.

> Wallace Stevens <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Wednesday

Nothing here is obsolete

>>>>++<<<<

F r e s h   O h   S o   F r e s h

Farmers Market

Matthews, North Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

Everything here is yellow and green.
Listen to its throat, its earthskin,
the bone dry voices of the peepers
as they throb like advertisements.
The small animals of the woods
are carrying their deathmasks
into a narrow winter cave.
The scarecrow has plucked out
his two eyes like diamonds
and walked into the village.
The general and the postman
have taken off their packs.
This has all happened before
but nothing here is obsolete.
Everything here is possible.

Because of this
perhaps a young girl has laid down
her winter clothes and has casually
placed herself upon a tree limb
that hangs over a pool in the river.
She has been poured out onto the limb,
low above the houses of the fishes
as they swim in and out of her reflection
and up and down the stairs of her legs.
Her body carries clouds all the way home.
She is overlooking her watery face
in the river where blind men
come to bathe at midday.

Because of this
the ground, that winter nightmare,
has cured its sores and burst
with green birds and vitamins.
Because of this
the trees turn in their trenches
and hold up little rain cups
by their slender fingers.
Because of this
a woman stands by her stove
singing and cooking flowers.
Everything here is yellow and green.

Surely spring will allow
a girl without a stitch on
to turn softly in her sunlight
and not be afraid of her bed.
She has already counted seven
blossoms in her green green mirror.
Two rivers combine beneath her.
The face of the child wrinkles.
in the water and is gone forever.
The woman is all that can be seen
in her animal loveliness.
Her cherished and obstinate skin
lies deeply under the watery tree.
Everything is altogether possible
and the blind men can also see.

> Anne Sexton <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Tuesday

My heart's best treasure

>>>>++<<<<

F a c e   I t

Oakwood Cemetery

Raleigh, North Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

Surprised by joy -- impatient as the Wind
I turned to share the transport -- Oh! with whom
But Thee, long buried in the silent Tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind --
But how could I forget thee? -- Through what power,
Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss! -- That thought’s return
Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more;
That neither present time, nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

> William Wordsworth <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Monday

Freely forever

>>>>++<<<<

C r o w n e d   C r o s s

St. Helena's Parish Church Cemetery

Beaufort, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

One day when heaven was filled with His praises

One day when sin was as black as could be

Jesus came forth to be born of a virgin

Dwelt among men, my example is He.

Living He loved me, dying he saved me

Buried He carried my sins far away

Rising He justified, freely forever

One day He's coming, O glorious day!

One day they led Him up Calvary's mountain

One day they nailed Him to die on the tree

Suffering anguish, despised and rejected

Bearing our sins, my Redeemer is He.

One day they left Him alone in the garden

One day He rested, from suffering free

Angels came down o'er His tomb to keep vigil

Hope of the hopeless, my Savior is He.

One day the grave could conceal Him no longer

One day the stone rolled away from the door

Then He arose, over death He had conquered

Now is ascended, my Lord evermore.

One day the trumpet will sound for His coming

One day the skies with His glories will shine

Wonderful day, my beloved ones bringing

Glorious Savior, this Jesus is mine.

Living He loved me, dying he saved me

Buried He carried my sins far away

Rising He justified, freely forever

One day He's coming, O glorious day!

> John Wilbur Chapman <

>>>>++<<<<

In the end of the sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week,

came Mary Magdalen and the other Mary to see the sepulchre.

And, behold, there was a great earthquake: for the angel of the Lord

descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone

from the door, and sat upon it.

His countenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow:

And for fear of him the keepers did shake, and became as dead men.

And the angel answered and said unto the women, Fear not ye:

for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified.

He is not here: for he is risen, as he said.

Come, see the place where the Lord lay.

And go quickly, and tell his disciples that he is risen from the dead;

and, behold, he goeth before you into Galilee; there shall ye see him:

lo, I have told you.

And they departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear

and great joy; and did run to bring his disciples word.

And as they went to tell his disciples, behold, Jesus met them,

saying, All hail. And they came and held him by the feet,

and worshipped him.

Matthew 28:1-9

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Sunday