A couple of stars wink at me
Amid the clouds of the night sky.
Amid a cloudy and dark night's sky
I see your glow . . .

Amid the clouds of the night sky
A gentle wind whispers, and it calls to me
"Come live among the stars."
A tempting offer . . .

But I will stand and dream of heavenly things
And dream and dream of other things
Watching you amid the clouds of the night sky
As I wink back and sigh.

With delicate needles made from animal bone
They sow warm winter clothing for the family.
Each sit, these tribal sisters, by the light of a fire pit.
The walls of the cave, a natural shelter, are sooted
And lapping tongues of flames flicker across the scene;
Children play at the mouth of the cave, running, giggling.
They are bundled up in skins along with fur-shod feet,
Their mothers keep an eye on these precious offshoots.
The men are gathered toward the back of the cave
Sharing stories of the hunt, one sketches on the wall.
They will go and track game before the morning dawns.
Then men and women will prepare the bounty together
And the tribal sisters will sit to sew with delicate needles.

A Hunter's moon is rising.
And it struggles to shine.

Out of a ladened sky
Descends rain as clouds cry.

Though, I will not fret, nor fear
What the night might try to hide.

For the brightness and beauty
Of which you now emit

Far outshines any sun
And all my worries quit.  

You my love are the only one
Who can fill my sky tonight.

Once found,
This tensile strength,

Not much can
Ever get me down.

I look to You with
Steel-rod spine,

But gentleness inside all
Will find as I walk with You.

For You hold the stars
Within Your hands

And with an upward toss
Direct them where to go.

The universe sparkles
With Your truth and power

And through Your spirit glows.

It touches my heart deeply
When I think back to her

Wiping eyes and waving
As we drove away after each visit

I adored my Granny
And see her sitting in church

Hat and gloves on, elegant in age
A Southern paper fan in hand

Treasured Bible and hymnal on the pew
So worn with use from her very hands

And I hear the old-timey style of singing
As she slides into each of the notes

All that is what is the best within me
Had its beginning with her instruction

Her desire to walk in her Master's steps
And have me follow

If I had not known better
I would have thought she came down

From heaven

Though each fold be lovingly placed
One thing is for sure it may not glide.

And just because a thing has wings
No matter how you try it may not fly.

And should you ask me why?  
This would be my reply,

"It's just that way with fragile things."

Love is
A river
That rages
In stages.
Wanting to be
Free it climbs
Its banks as if
Wanting to see
What is on
Each side.
So comes
Forth the poem
From just
One line
"Time is a river."