September reflections from the Owl Poet.
September 6, 2018
As I drove eastward toward home this evening from the office, the setting sun bloomed from vivid yellow to apricot, melon and deepening hues of lavender. I couldn’t help but continually look in my rear view window knowing that God was reminding me that whatever frustration, despair or worry I had about my day, I can rest in His peace.
a lavender sky
new day waits
September 9, 2018:
And just like that the cool winds of autumn appeared with cheers from the football stadium echoing among the falling maple leaves on Sunday morning.
summer is over
September 10, 2018:
The day draws her shades earlier as the warmth of summer’s love shows his interest elsewhere. Hibernating in her grief until spring brings forth the beauty of a new love, the nights become cold and long.
the shifting shadows
sun and moon
September 11, 2018:
I looked up into the sky as I gently held hands with my 3 year-old and 5 year-old sons. We walked down our ordinary street on a September day awash in the afternoon sun with leaves whispering the daily news with the birds.
No parade in the sky or white streamers on this afternoon. Just an unblemished blue sky, unordinary in an ordinary suburban neighborhood. A sign that my sons would grow up in a world different than mine.
when we all stood for the flag
September 12, 2018:
On a crisp September morning the crows on the overhead wire telecast their news and the Sandhills and Canadas follow suit with their own version. The sun powers up her furnace and the morning dew trickles down from its grassy ledge. The day shiny and new like a bright copper penny.
freedom of the press
Another from September 12, 2018:
pledge allegiance to the flag
where we can all stand
and justice for all
September 13, 2018:
In the distance I hear the punctuated blare of loneliness passing through the dead of night. Stealing my silence, I wonder where it’s going.
place and time
a train to somewhere
September 15, 2018:
On this Saturday afternoon in September when the sun is still remembering July and the leaves are touched by the first signs of aging, I sit here on the deck outside with an open book that wafts perfume of fresh ink wishing for the caress of Lake Michigan one more time. I should be sitting in my designated pew along her shores dreaming for the day when I would take a day like today for granted because yesterday and tomorrow would be the same as it is today.
But here I am fondly remembering children’s laughter in and around a little white cottage that is located hours and miles away known as Heaven’s Vineyard that now waits empty for its’ new owners to start their summer vacation story. Wistfully, I begin dreaming of writing a new chapter of my own.
between the chapters
And another from September 15, 2018:
like Arizona dust
all choked up
from the city grates
September 28, 2018:
It would have been wonderful to exit September that somehow everyone in this world could gaze upon this beautiful photo by Julia Tiede-Iveson and become whole like two people exchanging gold bands on their wedding day. Yet, the world is not whole and it is not one in mind, body, and spirit to believe that each one of us deserves to be heard, to be believed, and importantly, to be respected.
September 30, 2018:
“Our purpose is to please God, not people. He alone examines the motives of our hearts.”
1 Thessalonians 2:4
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