“Though I am growing old, I maintain that the best part is yet to come - the time when
one may see things more dispassionately and know oneself and others more truly, and perhaps be able to do more, and in religion
rest centered in a very few simple truths. I do not want to ignore the other side, that one will not be able to see so well,
or walk so far, or read so much. But there may be more peace within, more communion with God, more real light instead of distraction
about many things, better relations with others, fewer mistakes.” Henry
Jowett in a letter to a friend.
First Spring Robin by Bonnie Burks Gray
man must get away now and then. I go out there and walk and look at the trees and sky. I listen to the sounds of loneliness.
I sit on a rock or stump and say to myself, “Who are you, Sandburg? Where have you been and where are you going?”
need silence to stay in touch with ourselves, who we are and most profoundly want to be. And we need silence, time apart,
on behalf of our relationships with others. This may sound strange, but it is in quiet that we can become sensitive again
to the needs of those dearest to us, whereas in the noise and hurry of the occupied mind we lose touch with the better side
of our souls.” Gilbert Bowen
Once more lovely
April steps on stage and I am blessedly here to witness her show another year! Perhaps
it was Jesse Stuart who first made me fall in love with April via his poetry born in the Kentucky hills. He wrote a poem titled Hold April that later
became the title of a book of his poetry:
on to April; never let her pass!
year before she comes again
bring us wind as clean as polished glass
apple blossoms in soft, silver rain.
April when there’s music in the air,
life is resurrected like a dream,
wild birds sing up flights of windy stair
bees love alder blossoms by the stream.
April’s face close yours and look afar,
April in your arms in dear romance;
holding her look to the sun and star
with her in her faerie dreamland dance.
not let April go but hold her tight,
of eternal beauty and delight.
From my study window
the distant Blue Ridge Mountains soar gloriously on the eastern horizon and they find me counting my blessings again at another
winter’s passing. Ample rains have turned our valley green once more. The jonquils and narcissus I sunk into the good earth last fall are laughing in April’s
warm sunshine, reminding me of another Jesse Stuart poem: Why Ever Grieve?
ever grieve for blighted bloom and leaf – When winter fought the Spring to keep her crown;
second coming was a time so brief,
long enough to sow his death-seeds down.
Why ever grieve for all this
spring returns with certainty and pride
frozen Earth with promise of new life
nature her assistant and her guide.
flowers that Winter killed will grow again
cloaks of green adorn each naked tree
Nature’s healing sun and soothing rain.
wordless blueprints from eternity.
that I understand, I understand only because I love. -