Have you been noticing the summer spiderwebs these warm mornings? You see them in tall grasses, ditches, and meadows, sparkling as they catch the first light of the sun. Okay, I'm not really out there at the crack of dawn, but that sounds good doesn't it? "Sparkling as they catch the 7:00 sunshine" just doesn't … Continue reading Gossamer Sails: a poem about spiderwebs
Tag: Poetry
Blessed are the Holders
by Sherah-Leigh Gerber Blessed are the Holders Oh to be a child again To have lap to crawl into when the world overwhelms To have someone gently rub my back as I drift into sleep But I am the holder The lap and the back rubber Offering whispers of peace How about Legos? A … Continue reading Blessed are the Holders
Forsythia I and II
When the air starts to warm each spring, the grass greens, bulbs start pushing new green shoots up through the lawn, and blossoms appear, I get the irresistible urge to write poetry. Some funny. Some maybe good. Most unbelievably sentimental trash, I'm sure. This year, the humor won. Read on if you dare . . … Continue reading Forsythia I and II
Juice
I'm not a superhero many times not even a great mom or a wonderful person at all Caught up with all of you in the throes of a national crisis a global pandemic I find myself feeling quite ordinary my efforts infinitesimal compared to the magnitude of the galloping beast Living here at the foot … Continue reading Juice
Lent 4: The Lord is My Shepherd
For most of us these days, the Coronavirus pandemic has touched all parts of our lives, including Sunday morning worship. Thanks to my pastor, Marian Buckwalter, for sharing the following pertinent message with us this week that we can each enjoy from an appropriate distance. May you be blessed! **************************************************************************** Monday, when our son came … Continue reading Lent 4: The Lord is My Shepherd
Poem: “No Return Policy”
by Sherah-Leigh Gerber Grief is a roller coaster Trapped on a ride you didn’t choose Raising existential questions on a mundane Monday Grief is a marathon Tears unbidden as you unload the dishwasher and fold laundry Unfinished business rising without a pretty bow Grief is a runaway train Relentlessly chugging over anything in its path … Continue reading Poem: “No Return Policy”
