The Aspiring Bard

The heavens are weeping. Wrapped in a mourning cloak of darkness.  Rain-tears are seeping Into the sad, wet ground. Gaunt pine trees are crying, Sodden green boughs heavy in the rain. Wind is sighing Mournfully in the night. But bright dawn soon appears, Bringing happiness to the sad night. Earth dries her tears, Rejoicing in new life.

Rain comes marching across the fields A rushing sound And the dry, cracked ground Thirstily drinks. Withered trees wave their drooping limbs In the fresh wind. Branches sway and bend Expectantly. Small inhabitants of the grass Quiver in awe, Watching the rain draw Its grey curtain. A parched earth waits in eagerness The coming rain. Roused to life again By lively wind.

My Father, I feel so alone, Forsaken by all. Are You near? Can You hear When I cry out? My child, I am here with you, My spirit is in all good things. My glory in the sky above, In sunshine warmth you feel My love. My voice breathes strongly on the wind, My splendor shines from sunset clouds. My cleansing comes with every rain To wash you free from blot and stain. My judgments in the lightning wild, My majesty in tempest shows. In all of nature I display The workings of My mighty way.

I would be the moon, Reflecting the light of the Son of Sons. I would be a drop In the vast ocean of His love. I would be a chisel In the hand of the Master Carpenter. I would be a single note In His symphony of grace. I would be used By the Creator of heaven and earth.  

White lady, Dancing through the trees, Arms flung wide In the spring-time breeze. White lady, In her snowy gown. On her head, Delicate green crown. White lady, Swaying in the breeze, Arms flung wide, Flitting through the trees.

Outlined against the sky, We stood to watch the clouds go by. Childhood friends, The two of us. High on that grassy hill The wheels of time seemed to stand still, As we watched, The two of us. We did not heed that strange Sound on the wind, the notes of change. Unaware, The two of us. Playtime gone, childhood days Are viewed through a nostalgic haze. Grown up now, The two of us.

You made a dash, But the rain caught you With the first splash Of a raindrop on your nose. Now your wet hair Streams down your back. You do not care As you dance in the spring rain.

Tiny buds on each brown bow, On every hill a mist of green. A calf beside the placid cow, The redbud tree a blushing queen. On each gentle wind that blows Comes greening promise of the spring, The promise of brown garden rows, Promise of each growing thing.

Six feet stepping along the road, Linked by ties of rhythmic motion. Stepping light beneath their load Of youthful worries. Six legs moving altogether, Strong young muscles beneath tanned skin. Bend, step, light as a feather, Heedless of distance. Six arms swinging in cadent time, Reaching toward unknown tomorrow. Confident in youthful prime Of a bright future. Three shadows following behind, Bulking small in the noontide glare. Following each twist and wind, Into tomorrow.

Side-by-side, We stood upon the little bridge, And gazed into the flowing tide, The swirling eddies below. Arm-in-arm, We leaned over the weathered rail And watched the changing, liquid charm Of a pale winter sunset. The river, Frozen in eternal motion, With scarcely a crest or quiver, Forever poured between the rocks. We stood there, In companionable silence, And watched the sunset’s fading glare As we shared our deepest thoughts.

When the flowers bow their heads, And fold their petals low, The golden sun lies down to sleep In brilliant afterglow, The fairy lanterns come a-dancing, A-dancing. From out the glooming half-light Lanterns begin to glow, As the elfin Twilight People Skip lightly to and fro, With fairy lanterns all a-dancing, A-dancing.