It Doesn't Look Like Anybody's Treasure...

Photo credit: borntoblaze.org

THIS OLD BIBLE

It’s not one of those expensive

gold edged, leather bound volumes

Its margins are filled

with scrawled notations

gleaned from personal revelations

and years of teaching

under Jonathan and Wayne

There are yellow highlights

asterisks, exclamation points, arrows

underlines, sometimes double underlines

sometimes double underlines in red ink

There are little line drawings, dates

Hebrew, Greek and Aramaic

transliterations, translations

prayers copied on blank pages in front

prayer cards tucked in its pages

bookmarks, tracts

a few notes and letters

Its pages have lost their brightness

from handling and caressing

they’ve absorbed tears

illuminated joys

There are jagged pen slips

from dozing

many index labels have fallen off

Its spine has been repaired

again and again

It doesn’t look like anybody’s treasure

When I pass on

there might be a little money

property, some poems

There might be a few pieces

of inexpensive jewelry

You’ll rummage through

the way we did when Grandpa died

when lots of things were thrown in dumpsters

lots of things were divided up and given away

You may be tempted to toss this book

but, no, no, I know you’ll know

this old battered Bible

is the most valuable possession

I’ll leave behind

Maude Carolan               

A Walk in the Woods in Autumn

Have you taken a walk

in the woods, this autumn

and praised God for His handiwork?

Photo credit: nature.desktopnexus.com

SYMPHONY OF THE WOODS

I meander through woods

along a beaten pathway in North Jersey

and the music begins immediately

There’s chittering of crickets

and the cacophony of other insects

that are hanging on to life

until the frost, which will come soon

Leaves rustle in the trees

some whoosh past me

as they fall to the ground

and there’s a crunch

of dry ones beneath my feet

I hear an occasional snap of a twig

and the scamper of squirrels

or chipmunks, a raccoon

or field mice scurrying unseen

up and down tree trunks

or frolicking in the dense brush

There may be hidden deer or a bear

Some sounds I cannot identify

Birdsong completely fills the air

all kinds of birdsong—

chirps and coos

and warbles and squawks

I even hear the flutter

of wing flaps

Tying everything together

is the faintest whistling in the breeze

that feels something like tinnitus

ringing in my ears

but it’s not unpleasant

All the sounds blend together

into Nature’s symphony—

a serenade to my spirit

as I stroll

Maude Carolan Pych

It's Our 10th Wedding Anniversary

 We Celebrated Our 10th Anniversary

On a Cruise Along the Mississippi

Maude & Bob Pych

ALONG THE MIGHTY RIVER

Our 10^th Anniversary vacation—October, 2016

When people heard we were celebrating

our 10^th anniversary

there was always that look of surprise—

They expected to hear it was our 50^th, at least!

Bob and I became friends following the demise

of our spouses and now enjoy the sweetness

of mature love and someone across the table

during these, our golden years

We were on a long anticipated river cruise

chugging along the muddy Mississippi

from Memphis to New Orleans

aboard a brand new paddle-wheel boat

built to look like a historical old steamboat

We enjoyed spicy Cajun and Creole cuisine

and music by a different jazz band every evening

Thoughts of Tom Sawyer, Huck

and Becky sprang to mind along the brush

and coves and beyond the levees. Imagination

carried us past whitewashed fences

and old graveyards with tumble-down tombstones

inscribed with indecipherable names and dates

We visited the Civil War battlefield

at Vicksburg, Tennessee, and toured

stately plantation mansions

boasting yesteryear charm in every room

and saw former cotton fields that now grow

sugar cane since the widespread infestation

by the destructive boll weevil

We peeked inside long empty slave quarters

deep in the old south

Then we disembarked and spent a few days

in the Big Easy’s quirky French Quarter

where structures from the 1800s clearly showed their age

and where strings of gaudy beads dangled

from tree branches since Mardi Gras last spring

We took a stroll down Bourbon Street

as jazz saxes and trumpets blared

from inside the pubs

and young street musicians

banged on plastic containers and paint cans—

a constant noisy battle of the bands

We were surrounded by so much to do and see

and history so old, it made us feel young

Maude Carolan Pych