Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘sky’

A treasured gift

FEATHERED BEAUTY

Sapphire bluebird, is it true
That you were born to be so blue?
Or did you one day fly so high
You scraped some blue paint from the sky?

And what about your russet chest?
Was it stained within the nest?
Or when you flew above the crowds,
Was it skimmed from sunset clouds?

From whence they came should matter not,
God placed you in that color slot.
Feathered beauty from above,
A treasured gift of His great love.

10/12/96 Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

   RAIN – SETTING MY MOODS

 

Coming down in sheets,

it resembles a silver lame theater curtain.

A gift of nature’s beauty.

Preceding summer hail,

it portends worse to come, as we await the yellowing of the sky.

But sometimes it dances on my window panes,

and makes its own melody on the tin roof of my cabin, as I drift off to sleep, mesmerized by its charm. 

It cleanses my roof, and compacts the dust of the twisted lane to my cabin,

making little puddles  that serve as bird spas … mud baths in the dirt – drinking cups in the gravel.

It fills blossom cups that serve  as chalices for butterflies

And it makes the hot earth send up moist earth aromas.

As a child, I loved to stand or dance on the lawn, as it made my clothes cling to my body, cooling  me on a hot summer day.

Sometimes it fills my rain-barrel, becoming the source of future shampoos.

I love to watch the little spirals each drop makes on the quiet water of my pond.

When driving in the darkness of evening, it makes car lights shine with diamond rays.

Washing the dust of time from everything.

God blesses us with every raindrop.

 

Phyllis A. DeWitt-VanVleck

Read Full Post »

Winters Fury

hushed-beauty

                  HUSHED BEAUTY

 

Last evening storm clouds filled the sky.

A raging blizzard then swept by

And left my driveway piled quite high.

            The landscape’s clothed in frosty white

            From snow the storm laid down last night.

The sleeping trees, so bleak and bare

Have temporary coats to wear,

Which will be shed with spring’s warm air.

            Early blooms near patio decks

            Wear icy mufflers ’round their necks

And jaunty little white berets,

While bushes all wear snow toupees

And windows sport white appliques.

            The snow-blocked road that nature made

            Anticipates a snow-plow’s blade.

It’s early morning without sound . . .

Not from the sky — not from the ground.

After the storm, hushed beauty’s found.

 

3/2/90           Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

 

Hon. Men. … PAW (in Pa)1990 

Read Full Post »

        NO GOD?

 

Sceptics say “There is no God”

They’re wrong, He’s everywhere

I need but open nature’s door

To see His wonders there

 

The velvet in a petaled rose

A butterfly’s bright hue

The sun’s warm rays upon my face

And sparkling drops of dew                                                     

A rainbow on a summer day      

A cooling mid-day rain         

Moonlight’s dusky golden glow

On earth’s great counterpane

Snow-capped mountains touching sky

With valley’s down below

An ocean with it’s white capped waves

And streams where willows grow

 

No God? With all this beauty

How foolish can they be

He’s ever present in our lives

How sad, they cannot see

 

11/20/99     Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

Read Full Post »

THE TOUCH OF A WING

 

Great golden and bald eagles

Soar and dip and glide

I envy them such freedom

To travel far and wide

 

I think it must exhilarate

When on a downward swing

To caress the mighty treetops

With the touch of a wing

 

Then go soaring to the glory

Of cerulean sky

To catch the thermal up-drafts

As scenes go passing by

 

How great to view the landscape

Away from all the crowds

Where all that’s seen is beauty

Down beneath the clouds

 

Oh, I’d love to soar like they do

And glide with wings spread wide

Surveying beauty spread below

In our great countryside

 

2/19/95            Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

 

4’th … Indiana NPD 1995

Read Full Post »

 NIGHT’S BLESSING

 

 

At the end of the day

            When the sun’s last ray

                        Is just a sliver of light

Darkness starts to descend

            To signal day’s end

                        And the earth nods into night

 

Day’s fragrance is rent

            By night’s earthly scent

                        Daylight beds down with a yawn

As dusk takes away

            The heat of the day

                        The curtain of night is drawn

 

Heaven’s jewels wink down

            From their heavenly crown

                        The landscape’s kissed by the moon

While the frogs and bugs

            On their lily pad rugs

                        Compose a melodious tune

 

Fireflies wing by

            As the breeze gives a sigh

                        Birds settle down for the night

While an owl in a tree

            Winks flirtatiously

                        Then spreads his wings in flight

 

A cloud in the sky

            Drifts lazily by

                        And then it shadows the moon

That strange mournful plea

            Near a lakeside tree

                        Is just the call of a loon

 

Like strings of wee beads

            On webs in the weeds

                        Dew jewels silken threads

Flowers here and there

            Bow crowns as in prayer

                        Nodding their beautiful heads

  

As night settles down

            She puts on her gown

                        To cloak earth’s sleepy breast

For it’s part of God’s plan

            And a blessing to man

                        That we’re given this time of rest

 

6/23/72        Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

Read Full Post »

     TOUCHING THE SKY

 

On my old swing I’d fly so high

I thought my feet would touch the sky.

My hair would swirl around my face

And with my toes, the clouds I’d trace.

 

I’d close my eyes so I could see

Myself, as I touched majesty.

I’d feel the kiss of Heaven then

Before the swing returned again.

 

Now, on the ground my feet must stay,

As I sit here and dream away,

Back to that sweet remembered thrill . . .

The oak-held swing upon the hill.

 

That swing still hangs on old frayed rope,

Reminding me of bygone hope – –

My fantasy to touch the sky,

When as a child I’d swing so high.

 

2/10/00      Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

Read Full Post »