Beauty, Even in Death

This is a dead tree in the area of the mud pots in Yellowstone National Park.

Working Mother

Mid Summer Solstice in Ennis, Montana

The Storm

The storm is brewing, coming in,
The sky grows dark with fear
Each birds is calling to its mate,
“Find a tree, it’s near!” White tails flashing out an alarm
“Clear the meadowland”
The world is almost crackling now
The storm is near at hand The clouds hang closer to the hills
To hide from what’s begun
The air’s almost too thick to breathe
Beneath the fading sun The aspen leaves quake in the breeze
That’s thick with sweet perfume,
The fragrances plucked as it passed
Each grass & prairie bloom

And then the raindrops start to fall,
Like bitter angry tears
Spilled from the eyes of raging clouds
Born of a pain that sears

A crashing fire rips through the clouds
And echoes in the hills
The river cowers in its bed
And drinks what heaven spills

The trees bow down, limbs twisted back
Beneath the brutal gale
The ground is littered with torn leaves,
With splintered limbs and hail.

But then, as swiftly as it came,
The storm is spent and gone
And in its wake, the sun returns
As if nothing had gone on…

On The Road To Montana

God Sang To Me This Morning

Jesus sang to me this morning
As I lay sleeping in my bed
He called me from the edge of sleep
I woke with His song in my head

He bade me give Him my worries
Place my burdens in His strong hand
He said that I could rest in Him;
An offer of love, not command.

He sang me a song of childhood
One that I hadn’t heard in years
Just one verse that answered the prayers
I had filled last night with my fears

I woke to the voice of my savior
His words came with the dawn’s fresh light
Reminding me of His great love
And that He is holding me tight


I heard him singing: "Lay your worries on my shoulder, put your troubles in my pocket, rest your head on me a while" I know the song is slightly different, but this is the way He sang it to me. I had not heard that song in years. I had not listened to music of any sort since Sunday & that song was not among those I heard then. But it did answer my prayers from last night. I love it when He speaks to me on the edge of sleep, because I can hear Him clearly then & I know it's Him. Patient Expectation.

Sleepy Heads

The little stars peer down on me

As I slip into bed;

They laugh and call me silly names

Like little sleepy head.

But I know when I wake at dawn

That they’ll be off to bed

And then it will be them, not me,

Who is the sleepy head!