writing

Snow Globe

“Give it a shake!” The salesclerk coaxed her. “Watch the magic unfold!”

The little girl gently tilted and shook the snow globe. When she set it back up, the snow swirled around the trees and the small family of deer prancing in the forest scene.

Her brown eyes stared intently, seeing other woodland creatures come into view. She felt a small little chill in the drafty store. It made her feel she was right there, standing on a snow bank watching it all unfold.

A strong but soft hand rested on her shoulder. She looked up, then pointed to the shelf.

“Sofia, we need to go. Maybe later, okay?” Her father looked over to the door. “We’re already late.”

She took a final look, then shook her head. She slipped her hand in his as he led her out of the shop. Off they went to see grandma, and soon the snow globe was a distant memory.

writing

Santa Loves Tex-Mex!

Wonder, wide-eyed wonder, filled innocent eyes.

Children grew huge smiles and danced about.

The adults waved behind giddy laughter.

Ever gracious, they’d wave and smile back.

Who would have guessed, this December eve,

we’d all come in to see in the middle of the restaurant

the season’s famous couple, Mrs. Claus and Santa!

Their presence brought everyone great cheer.

Everyone respected their time to eat.

Awestruck, patrons watched Santa finish his plate

full of tasty enchiladas and papas con chile.

As they left, they even posed for pictures

with those brave enough to ask.

It’s amazing what great cheer can be felt

by the magic of the holiday!

poetry, writing

Peace

A gentle wind blows across the lake, making the windchime dance.

A melodious sound fills the air with each strike of the clapper.

A breath in, a breath out, a few moments to find calm.

The wind stops its breath, and the chimes soon still.

But the birds return, flit among the branches and share their trills.

Finding time to enjoy the peace is hard these days,

But it’s always there, waiting for us to practice the pause.

writing

Optimistic Planner

Wandering the aisles, she slid her hand over the covers of planners screaming 2023 is on its way. The red one catches her eye, and she picks it up then flips through the pages.

Yes, this style will work. But the cover creeps her out. It feels like plastic, leather, and shaved fur…not pleasant at all after holding it a moment.

An emerald green one with a pliable cover, all in the same style inside, works much better. She plucks it off the shelf and into the crook of her elbow.

This is the year she’ll finally stick to the plan, make her calendar glow with all the great things she is going to achieve. She smiles and checks out.

Reality hasn’t caught up yet….she does this every year. Usually it doesn’t get past January 15th before the planner gets tucked into a corner to start to gather dust!

writing

Double Work

Mistakenly, she thought, four hands were better than two.

But twice makes quadruple the work.

Don’t get me wrong, partnership is good.

But then there are those moments,

Hands and arms covered in suds,

When you wonder, why can’t it all get done.

Rinsed dishes under dirty, enough!

Now it’s a double wash, and an extra sink rinse,

All for freaking what?

Lefty versus right, everything is backwards…

If you want me to do the dishes, stop setting traps!

A soaked shirt, a shortened temper,

And questions about ‘what’s wrong?’

Like you really don’t know!

But no more fighting, it will not change…

But at least they’re done….until next time.

writing

The Easy Life

Life, on the rocks, hard as can be.

But time wears the rough edges away,

And the stones turn smooth and slick.

Over and over, the waves beat on.

Eventually the rock turns to rubble,

The rubble turns to grainy sand.

The grains continue to wear away,

Until nothing but powder remains.

The water recedes, the winds pick up,

And away blows what once stood strong.

And nothing more stands in the way of life.

…if only we had the time to spare

The time to let our rocks fade away

so life could flow so easily for us too.

writing

Own It!

Here we go again, another struggle on its way.

It isn’t mine, but she tries to lay it at my feet.

How did this happen, this confusion and dismay?

Every direction turns into her latest defeat.

I have to hold my tongue and direct;

With tears, it isn’t time to correct.

So, I let her collect her thoughts,

Find her peace, practice mindfulness,

Honestly, though, I’m tired of the oughts.

All this drama is sadly senseless.

She needs to do what she’s got to do,

Don’t make me make the decision for you.

writing

Love Makes Light

Glints of lights bounce around,

Glitter reflecting candlelight,

Twirling about in wooden floors,

For a few moments, the world was all right.

Joyful music filled the spacious hall,

A lively clamor from wall to wall.

Hand holding and dancing close,

Tuxedos and shimmery dresses,

A fanciful buffet spread served,

And away went all of the stresses.

Tonight was a night full of dreams,

When hearts burst at the seams.

The final songs are softly played,

The lights dim, the crowd disappears,

Quietly they stroll outside,

Arm in arm, full of good cheers

The gala and finery was more than they’d know,

The evening closed with beautiful fireworks aglow.

Cheap streamers and sparklers about,

The reality they actually did not see,

Store bought trays of cheese and dessert,

It was all their minds’ own fantasy.

Their hearts and their hands fit like a glove,

Nothing else mattered except their true love.

writing

Florida Christmas

Two skinny trees, hiding in the corner, called to her. She finally found what she sought after keeping an eye out for a couple weeks. They were almost skipped; she’d only stepped into the area of the garden shop to look at something else when they caught her attention.

Three segments, a stand and three screws, times two, and they were now hers to adorn the dining room. Tall and skinny, they were perfect for the space. Next some warm twinkling lights and mesh ribbon to make them glow.

Sitting aside the giant wave, she decided these will have a seaside theme. Digging through decades of curated ornaments, she pulled out the shells, starfish, beach chairs and more. Each little bauble danced on the branches, showing off for a Florida Christmas.

writing

Starry Nights

Staring into the popcorn ceiling above, glints of gold glitter caught my eye. That was a thing back then, covering popcorn ceilings with glitter, I guess.

It was like staring at the clouds. Relaxing and mesmerizing, my active imagination would find figures and scenes, building little vignettes in my mind.

Sometimes, in my younger years, it would be horses, birds, flowers and such. I would drift off to dream, laying on my grandparent’s sofa, while visiting. These fancies would follow me into my dreams.

As I aged, I still would stare into that ceiling on our visits. Sometimes it would be of a witch flying through the starry night skies. Other times it would be a romantic romp in the middle of the night that would fill my adolescent brain.

I still find myself looking up into the knocked down texture of my own ceilings though, seeking creative thoughts, but there are no more golden stars to light my way.

I wonder if the new owners kept that ceiling after all these years.