Quick Reads
Like everyone else, daily life takes up a lot of my time. But I can't let writing inspiration pass me by. So any second I get free is spent honing in on inspiration and memories. Please enjoy these shorter works of mine in whatever free time you have.
01
I Loved You In My Dreams
Before I knew of your existence, the glimmer of your spark
Before my hands rested on my belly, protective of your light
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My mind drifted through the heavens, saw in my Father's eyes
An image of His sacred promise, joy hid within my heart
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And in my arms, I bore the burden, weight of longing, patience tried
And in my ears, He whispered softly, "Faithful I Am, trust in me"
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Prayers long unanswered, till it was time
Longing dissolved- washed clean away,
Pain pushes through, till a release
A cry of triumph- heralds your birth,
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My journey ends and,
begins anew,
The dream surpassed,
By reality.
For in my dreams I loved you, precious bundle at my breast,
Before I knew of your existence, whispered praise and thankfulness.
02
Early Winter
The wind blew waves of change across the surface of the lake. Unrest stirred within her soul.
And despite the late afternoon sun's warmth, she dug her hands into the deep pockets of a worn and much too large men's jacket.
Her eyes rested on a family of loons fighting the chop; diving and surfacing. The young were now full grown, indistinguishable from their parents.
Pine and spruce covered the faraway hillside, boasting their evergreen attire. She knew they would never betray the lateness of the season.
She closed her eyes and breathed in the brisk mountain air. Slowly, just above a whisper, she began to sing:
"Amazing grace... how sweet the sound..."
This was her moment of solitude, her last rite of homage and it was not to be shared. Even the involuntary echo from the mountains was not needed or welcome. Her voice held, low and husky.
"We've no less days... to sing God's praise..."
Upon the last line, she held each syllable, just a little longer. As if this song could hold back the winter.
"than...when...we'd...first...begun..."
A stiff breeze blew strands across her face. She pulled the jacket a little tighter. At her feet, a few burnt leaves rustled, softly.
She opened her eyes slowly and took a last look at the water.
"Good bye," she whispered and turned away.
At her back, a loon sang out, its cry a mournful response.
A small white flake fluttered down and for a moment, rested on her cheek.
Winter had come early.
