My Little Sister
Long ago while just a boy
My sister Beth was born.
And that was when I first began...
'My life with little sister'.
The older siblings sped ahead,
To live their lives abroad
Leaving me...to keep an eye
On Beth, 'My little sister.
Named after a family friend,
Her middle name was Jo...
But she was always known to me
As just 'My little sister'.
For many years...twas just us two
Together with our mom...
Precious times while growing up
With Beth, 'My little sister'.
Eventually, we both grew up,
And went to live our lives;
And though she now has kids her own...
She's still 'My little sister'.
Today she has some grandkids too,
And lives quite far away.
But to me...shes not a 'Grandma Beth'...
She's still just 'Little Sister'.
Today she is a little older...
We'll just say "under 50"
And though we're neither one real young
...she's still 'My Little Sister'.
Love you Beth! Happy Birthday
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Friday, February 19, 2010
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Nature's Birth
A poem using synonyms by Clint Gardner 2008
******
How fresh is the birth of a child.
Like a breeze drifting in off the Sea.
We welcomed our new son with joy,
The first time his face we could see.
We had longed for the chance to be present,
When his first earthly cry we would hear.
And we thank our great God for his grace & his love
That allowed that we could be here.
For this is a time like no other,
Like the rise of the bright morning sun.
When the Doctor brings forth, and lays in our arms
The infant; our God given son!
Like the beauty of Nature’s first light,
That enlightens a tall mountain peak.
For our eyes they were both filled with awe…
When we took of our child our first peek.
As the warmth of the sun comes alive,
Like a flower that’s touched by the bee.
What a blessing to see, the potential indeed,
That inside of this child there might be!
As the sound of a clear mountain stream,
Trickles on as the waters run by;
I’m reminded by God’s purest flow…
That there’s moments in life you can’t buy.
For here is the essence of life…
A child, so tiny and lite.
But it holds in its soul, the greatest of gifts,
The lantern of God’s precious light!
As morning arrives, and the sun moves across
The meadow…revealing the dew.
You know in your heart, that there’s nothing in life,
That will limit what this child could do.
The flowers that lie in the meadow so bright,
Seem aligned in neat little rows.
And God must be great to have given to me…
This child that came forth from a Rose!
How mighty’s the forest that covers the land,
Its secret: the strength of the wood.
God give me the strength to lead my new son…
Down the path that God’s destiny would.
When I look to the heaven’s in the afternoon sky,
See the sunset, whose beauty we knew.
Then we marvel to think that this small little child…
Is from God, and a blessing so new.
Our new little boy, asleep in my arms,
I scarcely can guess what he weigh.
But the glory of life surrounds us each day,
And I know God will show us the way.
So next time you’re out in the world that we share,
Look around, take a moment or two…
To look at the mountains, the trees, and the sky,
Then, you’ll... see his majesty too.
‘Cause I can’t help but look, at this small little child,
And realize the gift that we’ve won…
A gift that is greater than Nature itself,
Is our child, our blessing, our son!
Meet our new son: Ethan Arthur Gardner
.
******
How fresh is the birth of a child.
Like a breeze drifting in off the Sea.
We welcomed our new son with joy,
The first time his face we could see.
We had longed for the chance to be present,
When his first earthly cry we would hear.
And we thank our great God for his grace & his love
That allowed that we could be here.
For this is a time like no other,
Like the rise of the bright morning sun.
When the Doctor brings forth, and lays in our arms
The infant; our God given son!
Like the beauty of Nature’s first light,
That enlightens a tall mountain peak.
For our eyes they were both filled with awe…
When we took of our child our first peek.
As the warmth of the sun comes alive,
Like a flower that’s touched by the bee.
What a blessing to see, the potential indeed,
That inside of this child there might be!
As the sound of a clear mountain stream,
Trickles on as the waters run by;
I’m reminded by God’s purest flow…
That there’s moments in life you can’t buy.
For here is the essence of life…
A child, so tiny and lite.
But it holds in its soul, the greatest of gifts,
The lantern of God’s precious light!
As morning arrives, and the sun moves across
The meadow…revealing the dew.
You know in your heart, that there’s nothing in life,
That will limit what this child could do.
The flowers that lie in the meadow so bright,
Seem aligned in neat little rows.
And God must be great to have given to me…
This child that came forth from a Rose!
How mighty’s the forest that covers the land,
Its secret: the strength of the wood.
God give me the strength to lead my new son…
Down the path that God’s destiny would.
When I look to the heaven’s in the afternoon sky,
See the sunset, whose beauty we knew.
Then we marvel to think that this small little child…
Is from God, and a blessing so new.
Our new little boy, asleep in my arms,
I scarcely can guess what he weigh.
But the glory of life surrounds us each day,
And I know God will show us the way.
So next time you’re out in the world that we share,
Look around, take a moment or two…
To look at the mountains, the trees, and the sky,
Then, you’ll... see his majesty too.
‘Cause I can’t help but look, at this small little child,
And realize the gift that we’ve won…
A gift that is greater than Nature itself,
Is our child, our blessing, our son!
Meet our new son: Ethan Arthur Gardner
.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Lonely Lake by Joyce Kennedy
It was the name given it on our hiking map. Intrigued,
we followed a narrow, rising trail flecked with autumn,
aspen leaves beneath our feet, young trees leaning across
as if to guard the integrity of loneliness. At the end,
we found the lake, small jewel shining in space, not
obviously frequented, although there was a rickety
dock and on it, a battered rowboat and dented canoe.
No paddles. We sat, one in rowboat, one in canoe,
the loneliness of the lake pared down to bare essentials—
shore lined with thick, dark pine, intense and cloudless sky,
sun flaring on water's changing surface. A hawk dipped
down to startle the peace while two ducks rode the ripples
unperturbed. Stunned by beauty, we reached across—
boat to canoe, canoe to boat—to touch hands,
our own lonely selves connecting as lightly and effortlessly
as the dragonfly wing that earlier brushed against my face.
we followed a narrow, rising trail flecked with autumn,
aspen leaves beneath our feet, young trees leaning across
as if to guard the integrity of loneliness. At the end,
we found the lake, small jewel shining in space, not
obviously frequented, although there was a rickety
dock and on it, a battered rowboat and dented canoe.
No paddles. We sat, one in rowboat, one in canoe,
the loneliness of the lake pared down to bare essentials—
shore lined with thick, dark pine, intense and cloudless sky,
sun flaring on water's changing surface. A hawk dipped
down to startle the peace while two ducks rode the ripples
unperturbed. Stunned by beauty, we reached across—
boat to canoe, canoe to boat—to touch hands,
our own lonely selves connecting as lightly and effortlessly
as the dragonfly wing that earlier brushed against my face.
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