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Meditation or Visualization
Lying among wild flowers in a high country meadow, my nose is enjoying their fragrant smells mixed with that of spruce and pine trees.
I inhale and exhale deeply for several breaths and then my breathing settles down to normal as I lay quietly, enjoying the smells, warm sun on my face, and bird sounds.
My consciousness is aware of the quiet calmness, absent any noise of everyday commerce such as traffic, horns, sirens, trucks, etc.
My head is turned sideways, and a slight but tiny movement catches the corner of my eye. My eyes focus and closer examination reveals a beautiful red-and-black dotted small rounded body moving along a narrow leaf towards the stem of a large wildflower. It is a little ladybug moving along with determination. As I focus closer, I see little white specks on the flower stem, and some of them are moving slowly. Now I could see and understand the destination of this little bug. She is going to dine on her favorite prey. I turned my head back and looked at the robin’s egg-blue sky for a few minutes. Then I closed my eyes.
All was well and in harmony. Everything in my world that should be balanced was indeed balanced. All the equal and opposites were equally blended. At this point in time, all was beautiful and perfect in my world: No fuss, no hurry, no cares, and of course, no worry.
Since everything is perfect and good in my world, there is nothing left to do except take a nice nap.
Happy and safe travels on your journey!
High Country Meadow
Poppy of Remembrance
Red paints the fields where the poppies grow
After the battles there long ago.
Warmed by sunshine, watered by tears,
They still bravely bloom to remember those years.
Our soldiers were sent to a foreign land
To fight out of deep trenches in making their stand.
They struggled hard to remain warm and dry in the mud, rain, and snow
When they fought the Kaiser’s army so long ago.
Little imitation poppies were sold in the millions back then
To support the war effort and our fighting men.
They’re deep red like the bloodshed on the mud and snow,
These beautiful red poppies in the field where they grow.
Take just a moment to think and reflect.
Take the time to offer a thank you prayer in respect.
Someone order champagne and quickly remove the cork.
Let’s toast our dough boys and our hero, Sergeant York.
They still grow in the fields of yesterday.
They stand in remembrance and still hold sway.
In yesteryear, these poppies played their part.
When you wear one, I hope it matches the poppy in your heart.
THOUGHTS OF SPRING
I sat upon a park bench, writing pad in hand,
Enjoying flowering shrubs and warmth upon the land
As cacophony of sound assaults both my ears:
Birds singing, dogs barking, and children’s laughter at play.
Then, not one but three lasses appeared
With bonnets and flower baskets at arm.
They wore floral-colored smocks,
Emitting Old World charm.
“I see you are a writer, sir,” one said
As her laughter broke the air.
At a loss for words, I simply smiled,
Caught up in her blue-eyed snare.
“Please do write us a sonnet,” said the second lass.
“Oh, no, a poem,” pleaded the third.
I smiled at all three,
Completely lost for word.
Their little faces in mock pout,
Their dresses so colorful and gay,
Added the finishing touch on the canvas
Of this beautiful, fine Spring Day.
I cleared my throat and spoke, “Oh, I suppose,
A line or two I’ll jot of spring-time prose.
With a smile and a thank you, they skipped away, arms interlocked.
As they moved away, I couldn’t help but notice: The flowers matched their frocks.
The sun was warm, and the wind was balmy.
White fluffy clouds adorned the sky.
I stretched and yawned like a Cheshire cat,
Releasing a contented sigh.
Mother Nature had once again blessed the land,
Calling forth different flowers in abundant array.
While I watched butterflies and birds flit about
On this gorgeous, balmy Spring Day.
Spring tulips
Spring has sprung!
Daddy and Momma Mallard with 10 new ducklings
Daddy and Momma Canadian Geese with 2 new goslings
Double Bearded Iris
He Lives!
He walked among us over rocky pathways
Many long years ago.
The message He brought was the one He taught
To free us and let us know.
Numbered among transgressors,
Beaten and scorned with shame.
He shouldered false accusations bravely
And never placed the blame.
Not happy with His suffering,
They sentenced Him to death.
They nailed Him to a cross
To draw His last earthly breath.
He was buried in a sepulcher
Which was hewn in stone.
Women prepared His body for eternal rest
And left Him all alone.
Just as the prophecy had foretold,
The stone was rolled aside:
Three days later, our Savior arose
To ascend and forever to abide.
The ultimate sacrifice for our sins –
A price we could not pay –
Was paid in full by our Savior.
Each year, we celebrate this act on each Easter Day.
Happy Easter, Everyone!
W. Foster Welborn
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