Still Waters, Reflected Grace

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lead me beside the still waters,

And there let me find a safe place
Where I can just rest a moment
Away from the world’s hurried pace.
 
Lead me beside the still waters,
Where, sacred and blessed by your grace,
The currents are only rippled
By the reflection of your face.
 
Psalm 23:2
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside still waters,

Tide Flats

Family Squabble

Families are alike all over. This is a family of two immature Bald Eagles and two adult Bald Eagles who live in the niqually Flats. The kids were squabbling over who knows what...

 

 

Until Mom decided to break it up. She flew in and separated the kids. One landed and the other took off claiming that the sibling on the ground started it.... Mom swooped in to find out what was going on and when she got nothing but sass she called for Dad to come settle the kids down...

 

 

 

Then Dad slipped off for a moment of quiet before all heck broke loose again over something else!

 

Morning Whispers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Quiet whispers in the morning,

Promises of things to be,
Prayers and dreams and wistful longings;
All of them whisper to me.
 
Sit beside me in the morning,
Listen to its gentle voice.
The sun will bring with it new worries,
But for now simply rejoice.

Morning's Song

You stir restlessly. Tossing,
Murmuring in your warm dreams,
But you refuse to awaken,
To rise from your soft nest of flannel.

Awaken! The dawn is upon you,
Misty in its birth, and bearing promises.
Rise! It is your place to fulfill them,
But you cannot do that curled up in your dreams.

The Dryad Bound

Where the Dryad once had lingered
The woodland whispers still to her
Come home where your shadow tarries
Beside the stream, the drowsy fir,
Down along the sleepy lake side
Where only reeds and ripples stir.

There her quiet shadow wanders
Among the woods that hold her heart.
Though she left it far behind her,
Still they will never be apart
For her mind turns ever homeward,
Drawing her back to her start.

From his land of stone and mortar,
He called to her from far away
And she followed, quite enchanted,
His voice held her within its sway.
He bound her there, in his garden,
A priceless treasure on display.

She hears the songs of the forest
From where she’s bound, a captive bloom,
In a cultivated garden
That holds her like an icy tomb.
She longs to spread her roots and branches;
The garden offers her no room.

Weeping, she hears her wood calling,
She hears the reeds murmur her name.
She longs to smell the wild mosses
Instead of roses, sweet and tame.
Her tears flow, a bitter fountain
Spilling sorrow into her shame.

Broken is the Dryad’s haven,
Shattered are the trees of home
For too long they’ve been deserted
By the one who chose to roam.
She who is now trapped forever
Far from her heart and native loam.

Memories of Spring

Memories of a season past,

Of colors lost in time,

But still they linger in my heart,

A memory sublime!