I wonder how

the ceiling looks

vacant chestnut eyes

staring up

what does she see

on the faded white tile

wringing the blankets

what play is taking place

above her bed

eyes shifting

lips mumbling

do the actors

follow her commands

do they notice her

hollow stare

are they acting

just for her

humming, humming

eyes now closed

do they frolic and dance

singing a gospel hymn

her lovely face

faded yet noble

abruptly softens

her fingers

so slim and elegant

direct the choir

toes tapping sheets

eyes misty

my pale hand links

to her dark fingers

in a quivering grip

we sigh

in hushed unison

a momentary repose

-by T Elizabeth

Farm Memories



I had returned to my parents home on a warm July evening and was immediately greeted with a smell that brought me back to my childhood. The smell of freshly cut alfalfa is one that always causes me to have a sense of nostalgia. If I close my eyes I can go back to waking on those lazy, dewy mornings, a breeze coming through my upstairs window and breathing in that grassy freshness. Most of the time I was praying I could drift back to sleep without hearing dad’s voice echoing up the stairs to get up because there was work to do. Summer on the farm in Nebraska meant laying out irrigation pipe, walking beans and picking up hay bales back in my day. Today it’s been replaced with automated pivots, herbicides and big round bales picked up by tractors. No more loading square bales onto the pickup bed as high as you could and then throwing them up into the hayloft to stack. What fun we would have walking through those piles and making forts in the haymow. The old calico farm cats almost certainly would choose to have their litters of kittens somewhere among the bales of straw or hay. When we saw the mama cats had lost their big bellies we were on the hunt to find those babies. We knew not to get too close or sure enough she would move them so we would keep a watchful eye from afar. Summers meant gardens and beans to snap, sweet corn to freeze, 4-H meetings and livestock to take care of and it also meant a lot of time outdoors. To some the smells of the farm may be offensive and some certainly are. I can’t say I want to relive my scooping manure days anytime soon! However the smell of fresh turned soil in the spring and the rows of ripe cut alfalfa will always bring back fond memories. Life seemed simple then when as a child our biggest worry was finding the newest litter of kittens.

Magic exists here – The Sunday Wordle 170



Magic exists here

Tell me, what magic exists here?

where passions thrive

swarming around

the words that hang

from lover’s tongues

they jump and frolick while

they sweetly hum

and every creature of the forest

thrives in it’s beauty


the words he says

are lies

and he leaves

and it’s storming

and she cries

without hope

Tell me, what magic exists here?


Divorce Party – Come on Over!

The great thing about blogs is the ability to express your opinion. Sometimes reading one that differs from your own opinion really gets you thinking. I read one just the other day about a man who was offended by people throwing “divorce” parties. His points were well taken. To paraphrase he mentioned “We don’t just divorce someone because they change, and we don’t celebrate that we quit on each other” He knows he will be with his wife until one of them dies. Good for him. I agree and I felt the same way at one time but guess what?  I got a divorce and I had a divorce party. But here’s the deal. I didn’t quit on anyone and I didn’t celebrate the end of something but the beginning of a new life for myself. The author said he will “ignore the ingrates that throw divorce parties” That’s fine because I am happy to be ignored by people who judge me. I have had a lifetime of judgment since my divorce – I honestly need no more, thank you very much.  I didn’t leave my husband because he changed. I left him because he would not. He refused to grow as a person or as a couple. I don’t have to explain to anyone why – only to know in my heart I did everything I could to keep my marriage alive. It takes two people to do that. It’s not as simple as “someone quit” and placing blame doesn’t suddenly make it heal. Anyone that has been through a divorce knows it’s not easy. It’s a sad, difficult journey that no one ever wants to go through. Everyone has hopes and dreams on their wedding day of “until death do us part”. It is so easy to judge someone if you have not been there. It is a heartbreaking experience. Does that mean you should be ashamed? We try at many things in life and fail. Why is marriage one that we are not allowed to forgive ourselves or each other for failing? Why are we not allowed to come out of it with our head held up and courage to move forward? I think if we can use maturity, forgive what we have done wrong, put our children first and wish each other well in life we can quit calling divorce ugly. No it’s not a happy time initially but as all things come to an end we have a choice – we can deal with it and move on or we can mope and live in the past.

I don’t wish for anyone to get divorced but I don’t wish for anyone to be judged for doing so. I still believe in love. I still cry at weddings. I still am a romantic at heart and want love in my life. I’m not a bad person for wanting happiness and love for myself and neither is anyone else for getting a divorce. Bottom line? Life is short. Whether love lasts 2 years, 50 years or a lifetime it’s not up to anyone else to determine.  My wish is for every marriage to last forever but if it doesn’t and you end up going through a grueling, 2 yearlong battle like I did. Throw a damn party if you want! Invite your friends to thank them for their support and love that helped you get through one of the most difficult times in your life. Have a beer, glass of wine or cake and say “Here is to me and my new life!” and don’t let anyone tell you it is wrong. Realize that you are human, learn from your mistakes, take time to figure out who you are and vow that the next love of your life will be “until death do us part”.

You dance inside my chest

It’s one of my favorite things to do on a lazy Saturday morning, peruse the poetry section of the used bookstore. My fingers lovingly graze past the worn edges until a new volume catches my interest and I flip through the pages lost, lingering as I lean against the dusty shelf. Yesterday the volume that fell into my path left me feeling as if I were a Peeping Tom and yet…it found its way into my stack of purchases as I could not leave it behind for another. We discard that which no longer serves us but somewhere, somehow perhaps it always lives on.

I smiled when I saw the small golden book of “Love Poems of Rumi” Only slightly worn I eagerly opened the cover and there I saw the flowing inscription. “To my dearest love, Merry Christmas. You dance inside my chest. Where no one sees you, but sometimes I do and that sight becomes this. I love you. I love you. I love you.” Emily


Off the beaten path in Pennsylvania


My first trip to Pennsylvania has been awe inspiring. We are staying in a Bucks county – north of Philadelphia and spring here is gorgeous. The trees are flowering and tulips are in bloom. We spent a day in search of the 12 covered bridges of Bucks county armed with a map and our cell phones. The county visitor guide on the web has turn by turn directions to get from bridge to bridge but we decided to start in a different order – I would only suggest this to those who don’t mind getting lost and taking a few wrong turns. We did so and happened along some really cool spots we may have not seen otherwise so our “off the beaten path” self tour worked for us! This included a very cool bar and grill called The Raven’s Nest where we stopped to eat a home cooked roast beef sandwich and have a beer. We got some great directions from some locals on how to head to our next bridge. Friendly people in Pennsylvania. We hit 6 bridges the first day, each were unique and beautiful. Their settings were all different and we spent some time appreciating the beauty of their surroundings – the woods, the creeks, the old Levi Sheard grist mill by one was a site to see, the stone used to make the walls is incredible. The drive itself is beautiful through the forests and taking in some very old homes and a bit of countryside. A very relaxing way to spend an afternoon. We plan to hit the other 6 in a couple of days. Possibly hitting the wineries staggered in between.
Check out the website here covered bridges