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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Monday, January 21, 2008

Scribbles and Scrambles - Falling Snow and Junk Yard Dogs

I have no idea why I'm inspired to write about snowflakes.

Why does the poetry bug bite?

The puppies are playing junkyard dog -- you know, the growling, snarling, fighting that siblings everywhere partake in. Except with 65 pound dogs, you don't allow it in the living room next to the cute little antique table with the Ming vase perched on top. Fortunately, the kids took care of my Ming years ago.

Ocean's Eleven blares from the living room. My Cheerios/Grape-Nuts bowl shares table space with my laptop, and I'm transfixed by the snow.

Velvet on Ice

Black velvet sky
No one does black velvet like God

Shards of ice bits

Each perfect

Being what
Doing all
that it was created for

Covering filth
Blanketing brokenness

Glorifying the Creator
Floating like grace
Covering dead and dying

Painting a picture
of redemption
on living black velvet