Saturday, May 18, 2013

With a Dieting Pledge

My Pledge

Being of sound mind within a body fat
I solemnly declare
to avoid the following foods, I swear:
Butter, gravy, and all sauces;
sugar in any form won't be my bosses;
apple pie topped with ice cream--
from now on
I'm aiming toward lean;
Chips and munchies 
and words like, "more--"
will be obliterated
from my kitchen store;
chocolate cookies,
including the batter,
is only going to make me fatter!
Health will be my final diet:
(I'll chew my carrots
and break the quiet;)
I can get through 
Monday just you wait and see;
there's going to be
a brand new me!

Written by 
Connie Nelson Ahlberg
 Too Long Ago!

Sunday, May 12, 2013

A Mother's Voice

Doux Reves - French 
by Firmin Baes

Sweet Dreams - English

A Mother's Voice

Though there will be a day when each of us joins the angels
or forms a light beyond Venus; yet today, to call and
have you answer your phone, an ordinary thing,
you with quiet joy saying my name, even now I know,
 this ordinary thing, is most sacred--and cherished. 

By Connie Nelson Ahlberg
All Rights Reserved.

A Mother's Voice was written and given to my mother before she flew up. 

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Take Heart: The Weeping Willow Comes

Willow tree with woodbine honeysuckle
by Roger Griffin

Signs of Spring

'Neath our last impatient days of spring, we wait for the sun. But yesterday I was
cheered by the beginnings of hanging green, hanging green on a weeping willow tree. It
cheered me all the way home. And the grass, too, held hope like open arms. 

A neighbor used to have a weeping willow tree. To me it marked her yard. But then it 
turned noisome with all the long branches lying about in needed of picking up. I forget 
what else was wrong with the tree. But one day the tree was gone and a garden in it's place.

Weeping willows, (or weeping "willahs" as they're pronounced in the South), have captivated me. Enough to push me to write:

Prayer of the Weeping Willow

A weeping willow is grand
because it has wept
where it stands,
turning experiential sorrow
into a seasoned grace;

Lord, bless this moistened face,
for these bows of grace
simply bend to honor Thee. 

I do know of people who have turned sorrow into grace. They become your mentors.