Winter

Crisp and clear

the air tonight -

Silent, still,

and crystal white.

Snowflakes dancing

all around,

Drifting softly

to the ground,

Like a whisper

barely heard,

Sweet and gentle

as a bird.

In every breath,

with every sigh,

Winter paints

as she walks by.

~ Debi Lankford

Snow World

The world is covered with fairyland paint

Of the purest, dazzling white,

By sly Jack Frost with his whitewash brush,

Who silently worked last night.

The green firs and pines have lacy white frocks;

Aspens wear mittens of white;

The breathless beauty of snow-covered peaks

Reflects the dawn's changing lights.

All the world seems pure, serene

In the wonder of the snow.

Only the youngsters break the quiet;

The elders dream of long ago.

~ Raymond Bottom

The Lacemaker

In the middle of the night, she came

To weave a pattern on my window pane.

With delicate strands of crystal thread,

She looped and stitched; we slept in bed.

With swirls and scallops, she adorned each space

In the finest beauty of winter lace.

~ Del Turner

Wonderful Wintertime

Beneath a sky of cobalt blue,

The day is wrapped in winter's hue.

Diamond-sprinkled snowflakes fly,

Like frost-kissed magic from on high.

Vivid blue jays, brave and bold,

Hop around and loudly scold.

Cardinals decorate the scene,

On snowy boughs of evergreen.

Icy winds sculpt drifts of white

And etch each silver-frosted night.

December hangs her frozen head

And sleeps upon an ermine bed.

~ Nora M. Bozeman

A Thanksgiving Harvest

The emphasis is not on food

So much as on a thankful mood,

A summing up, in grateful thought,

Of what the passing year has brought.

Your blessings are a harvest too

Of all the season brings to you.

~ Mary Louise Cheatham

November Is

November is a pilgrim
In austere Sunday best
Going to the meetinghouse
On his day of rest.

November is the storing
Of crops planted in spring,
The frost on crisp, cold mornings,
And gray geese on the wing.

November is elections
Across this freedom land
When voters casting ballots
Show they are in command.

November is a banquet
That welcomes one and all
To tables amply laden
On a holiday in fall.

November is thanksgiving
For blessings from above,
A time when families gather
In fellowships of love.

~ John C. Bonser

To a Willow Awaiting Winter

How like a golden harp you stand,

Your branches tunes strings in the hand

Of each capricious, taunting breeze

Denuded faded foliaged trees.

While your neighbor mimosas like ancient gods

Chatter among their brown bean pods,

You lend your branches to the wind,

Who breathes new songs as they weave and bend.

And though your leaves staccato down

To make gold-paved your street of town,

You sound the mellow season of

A lilting litany of love.

~ Nora S. Bair

A Changing Scene

I see the garden phlox grow pale
And sudden browning of the dale,
Trees changing into autumn gowns,
Rich harvest bins about the towns.

I see chrysanthemums so bright,
Like painter's palette, a delight,
And smell the hint of burning eaves,
Note hay in bales and wheat in sheaves.

I hear the robin's farewell trill
And feel the early evening chill,
Watch the last of fireflies
And catch cicadas' nightfall cries.

I know the special joy apart,
When autumn's scene does warm my heart,
For beauty that's beyond compare
In vibrant colors everywhere.

~ Virginia Borman Grimmer

Leaves

Awakened by whispering  leaves

Scurrying across the street

(Thousands of intrepid things

Scampering on tiny feet),

I wondered what they hurried from

Or rushed so eagerly to meet.

With morning came the chance to ask

Of any leaf remaining

What bade them run in dark of night

And what on them was gaining?

Now rustled only arbored leaves,

And they were not complaining.

~ Dean Robbins

Seasons

A young mother took her sweet babies to play

In the dry, crunchy leaves on that bright autumn day.

November indeed, but 'twas June in disguise

As Indian summer soon warmed the blue skies.

The colorful leaves in great mountainous piles

Brought jumping and  laughing and plentiful smiles.

As they nestled their bodies in leaves to their noses,

They wrestled each other in childish poses.

A young mother's joy and her soft whispered prayer

Were lifted to heaven on the warm breezy air.

Her soul brimmed with love only mothers can feel;

Her heart long ago did these little ones steal.

"Dear Lord, they're so precious, helpless, and dear.

To see them so happy this day of year,

I wish I could keep them like this, as you know,

Yet I watch them and cherish each day that they grow.

"So, warm their sweet lives with your Son from above

And cause them to grow in Your bountiful love.

As life's seasons change, Lord, this do I pray:

May they be more like You with each swift passing day."

~ Audrey Stoltzfus Fetters

Goodbye to Autumn Wings

Silver wings against the sky,

Hear that haunting clarion cry.

See the wild geese southward bound ---

There is autumn in that sound.

How their flight tugs heart and soul

As they struggle toward their goal

To new bayous, lakes, and fens;

To new marshes, brakes, and glens.

Always searching for the spring,

Onward flying, wing on wing.

Like a rosary of beads,

Bird by bird the V-line speeds.

As I count, I say a prayer

To the Maker for the care:

"Through the air lanes, day by day,

Speed the wild geese on their way,

Till they come at last to rest,

And, replenished, build their nest;

That one day with proud new broods

They will try new latitudes,

Find the old familiar lane

That will bring them north again."

Silver wings across the sky,

Wistfully, I say, "Goodbye."

~ Minnie Klemme

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things ---

For skies of couple-color as a brindled cow;

For rose-moles all in stripple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;

Landscape plotted and pieced --- fold, follow, and plough;

And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers forth whose beauty is past change;

Praise Him.

~ Gerard Manley Hopkins

Mister Nobody

We call him Mister Nobody;

And when the wind is still,

He stands so quietly, and thin,

Alone upon his hill.

But when the wind begins to blow,

He suddenly grows fat!

He waves his arms and seems about

To tip his battered hat.

If he could speak, perhaps he'd say

(I'm certain that he would),

"Who claims 'it is an ill wind

That blows Nobody good'?

"But I think I'm Somebody.

Just ask the crows!"

And who will deny it

While the wind blows?

~ Marion Doyle

To A Scarecrow

I passed a farmer's field today,
And bravely standing there
Was a jolly scarecrow
'Neath summer sky so fair.

He wore an old and bettered hat,
His clothes were ripped and torn;
An though he seemed to sag a bit,
He didn't look forlorn.

His painted face wore a grin,
He waved his gloves at me;
Through straw protruded here and there,
He was happy as could be.

For he was busy guarding land
To keep the crows away,
And all the crops grew nicely
As he watched both night and day.

I think he felt a special pride
Beneath the summer sky.
I smiled and felt happier
As I waved a fond goodbye.

~ LaVerne P. Larson

We Plow the Fields

We plow the fields and scatter the good seed on the land,

But it is fed and watered by God's almighty hand;

He sends the snow in winter, the warmth to swell the grain,

The breezes and the sunshine, and soft refreshing rain.

He only is the Maker of all things near and far

He paints the wayside flower, He lights the evening star;

The winds and waves obey Him, by Him the birds are fed;

Much more to us, His children, He gives our daily bread.

We thank You then, O Father, for all things bright and good,

The seed-time and the harvest, our life our health, our food;

Accept the gifts we offer for all Your love imparts,

And what you most desire - our humble, thankful hearts.

~ Matthias Claudius

translated by Jane Montgomery Campbell

Forever Fields

Windrows, wind blows, haying in the sun.

Sweat drops, crickets hop. Piles raked one by one.

Quaint oratories and allegories the trees and limbs applaud.

Birds fly in endless sky as I sweep across the sod.

Young girl, big worlds, thoughts beyond her years.

Mercy's balm, a redeeming calm as clay brings forth sweet tears.

Striped land, rake in hand, combing the winding trail.

Singing songs, quoting Psalms, pondering Heaven and Hell.

In pastures vast, oh, sacred past; hours never spurned.

For no man knows among windrows the grace of God I learned.

~ Jill Noblit MacGregor

Thanksgiving Song

Thank God for countless blessings

Bestowed on us each year,

The precious gifts to treasure

Which daily reappear.

Thank God for every sunset,

The dawning of each day,

The golden flood of moonbeams,

And stars which light our way.

Thank God for every handclasp,

For every loyal friend,

And for the joy of laughter,

The songs which have no end.

Thank God for fragrant flowers,

For every pleasant smile,

For all the countless blessings

Which meet us mile by mile.

~ Hilda Butler Farr

Thanksgiving

I sadden at the autumn's gray retreat

Until a sudden thought rebukes my mind;

What if October found me colorblind?

How then could wizard and the woodland meet?

A turning season twines its bittersweet.

Would I have found, were there not fallen leaves,

This wren-wrought cubicle beneath the eaves,

Where greening songs and russet wings had beat?

Without the rains of autumn, would the fungi rise:

The corals, brackets, and the witches' broom,

The leaves of lilac with their dusty bloom --

Spores spent like powdered stars in milky skies?

Bare beauty is the autumn's fashion creed:

Making success out of going to seed.

~ Helen A. Wolfe

Sometimes Our Light Goes Out

Sometimes our light goes out but is blown again into flame by an

encounter with another human being.  Each of us owes the deepest

thanks to those who have rekindled this inner light.

~ Albert Schweitzer

The Lamp

Hast thou a lamp, a little lamp, 

Put in that hand of thine? 

And did He say, who gave it thee, 

"The world hath need this light should be;

Now, therefore, let it shine?"

And dost thou say, with bated breath, 

"It is a little flame; 

I'll let the lamps of broader wick 

Seek out the lost and cheer the sick, 

While I seek wealth and fame?" 

But on the shore where thy small house 

Stands dark, stands dark, this night, 

Full many a wanderer, thither tossed, 

Is driven on that rock and lost, 

Where thou hast hid thy light. 

Though but a candle thou didst have, 

Its trimmed and glowing ray 

Is infinite. With God, no light 

Is great or small, but only bright, 

As is his perfect day. 

Thou shalt not want for light enough

When earthly moons grow dim; 

The dawn is but begun for thee, 

When thou shalt hand, so tremblingly, 

Thy empty lamp to Him.

~ Sarah Pratt McLean Greene

Rain

While the day dripped gray,

Yellow sun leaves floated down

To cheer the wet grass.

~ Virginia Gorychka

Rain Pool

Sometimes a rain pool may reflect

Some tiny wisp of grace;

Some mirrored drop of loveliness,

A fringe of Queen Anne's lace;

Or sometimes, as one did today,

Beauty in a shower -- 

A golden bird with jet-black wings

Poised on a purple flower.

~ Priscilla Snell

Storms

A storm hovered 'gainst the sky;

Its scowling mass

Refused to let a stream of light

Or sunbeam pass.

The winds began to howl, the birds

Made hurried flight;

The clouds in boiling turmoil spoke

Of shades of night.

The thunder rolled, the lightning flashed,

Then suddenly

The storm was over and the sun

Shone graciously.

I could not help but think how life

Is the same way;

Through every storm, however fierce,

A golden ray 

Of sunshine soon comes peeking through,

The storm's soon passed;

Take heart, my soul, the storms of life

Won't always last!

~ Georgia B. Adams

Life

The farthest thunder that I heard
Was nearer than the sky,
And rumbles still, through torrid noons
Have laid their missiles by.
The lightning that preceded it
Struck no one but myself,
But I would not change the bolt
For all the rest of life.
Indebtedness to oxygen
The chemist may repay,
But not the obligation
To electricity.
It founds the homes and decks the days,
And every clamor are bright
Is but the gleam of concomitant
of that waylaying light.
The thought is quiet as a flake --
A crash without a sound;
How life's reverberation
Its explanation found!

~ Emily Dickinson

Thanksgiving Time

I'm thankful for so many things,

It's hard to pick out just a few

And tell in little, simple words

How very much they mean to you.

First there is sunlight rich and warm

Shining upon the house and lot;

The good laws of our native land

For which our fathers lived and fought.

For neighbors just beyond the fence,

Whose lives are closely linked with ours,

With whom we share so many things --

Driveways and lights and growing flowers.

For crops of grain, for fruit and meat,

The fragrance of the earth; the trees, 

Churches and schools and country lanes --

I am thankful for all these.

For children in a hundred schools,

For timid old folks bent and worn,

Young mothers brave as knights of old,

Waiting for babies to be born.

For old church bells that softly chime,

A turkey at Thanksgiving time.

~ Edna Jaques

With Thankful Hearts

We gather now with thankful hearts
For blessings that abound,
For harvests that are full and rich,
For loved ones gathered around.
We thank Thee for Thy wondrous care,
For home and hearth and love;
With thankful hearts we gather
To praise the Lord above.

~ Becky Jennings

Prayer of Thanksgiving

I thank Thee, Lord, for daily bread;
For sheltering roof above my head;
For friends and loved ones, far and near;
For memories which I hold dear;
For seasons as they come and go;
The warmth of summer, winter snow;
The flaming maples in the fall;
Spring's verdant freshness over all;
Splendor of dawn and sunset's glow,
And all of beauty here below;
The song of birds; refreshing showers;
Beauty of music and of flowers
And all the pleasure they afford --
For all of theses, I thank Thee, Lord.

~ Mabel W. McClelland

A Thanksgiving Day in New England

O Bliss! where hearts are all aflame 

With love far deeper than a name; 

Where speech from hearts so sweetly slips, 

In loving words and touch of lips;

Where rise and find a transient rest, 

The noblest passion of the breast;

I fain would dwell if not for aye, 

At least on each Thanksgiving Day. 

O Love! wherever Love is found 

In all this toilsome world around,

In ache and woe and endless strife 

Thou art the balm in human life, 

That maketh possible to bear 

Our mingled load of joy and care. 

No lot can wholly cheerless be, 

Dear Love, when it is blessed by thee. 

Today I've watched glad hurrying feet, 

Trip gaily homeward, Love to meet. 

The father's hand, the mother's kiss, 

Thanksgiving Day, New England's bliss 

Calls to the old paternal chair,

The single youth, the married pair, 

And blithe they go with winsome grace 

To see again the old home-place. 

The snow comes down in feathered flakes

On noisy street and silent lakes;

Through window panes the fire lights glow 

Upon the fallen spotless snow;

And snug within from cold and storm 

Love's own are gathered safe and warm;

And from the scene is banished care, 

And all is joy beyond compare. 

The youngsters romp with boisterous stride, 

The mothers, with ill-concealed pride,

Half-scold in their indulgent way

For more decorum in their play; 

For this the youngsters feel no need 

And scarcely pay their parents heed. 

They make the old home ring without, 

With gaiety and childish shout.

And when they to the loaded board 

Come with their patriarchal lord, 

The grace is said and all the guests

A second time and more are pressed. 

To more of all the good things nice 

With sauce and aromatic spice. 

And gathered thus on this glad day,

The time speeds happily away. 

The old forget their years of pain, 

Feel in their children young again;

Perchance some tears a smile displace 

For some beloved absent face;

But all are met with one accord 

To happy be and thank the Lord. 

And joy from other things apart 

Is uppermost in every heart. 

But oh! all homes are not so blest 

With love and gathered family guests; 

And ye whom God doth favor give, 

Think kindly of the poor who live 

In tenements and never see 

The comforts God hath given thee. 

Ah! lonely hours pass away 

For many on Thanksgiving Day. 

My homesick heart gives useless sighs 

For love beneath my southern skies

And feels that longing which must come, 

To aliens far away from home. 

But still I know while fades the light

And daylight deepens into night, 

Love travels fast and cometh nigh

In answer to my own heart's sigh;

And so 'tis sweet though far apart -

When love doth answer heart to heart.

~ George Marion McClellan

The Pilgrims

They heaved the ocean's vastness
And a wilderness unknown
To find religious freedom
And a home-place of their own.
They persevered and labored,
Felling many forest trees
To build their humble dwellings
And a meetinghouse of these.

There were hardships and privations
That exacted quite a toll,
But with faith that never wavered,
They kept aiming for their goal.
They toiled from dawn to darkness
As they carved themselves a home
In this land that they had chosen
With no further wish to roam.

Many died that frigid winter
But those who had survives
Prepared the soil for planting
When springtime days arrived.
Gaining friendship of the natives,
Finding value in their ways,
They learned of different methods
That would lead to better days.

Autumn's harvest proved abundant,
Winter food was now assured;
They were grateful God had helped them
Throughout all they had endured.
So a day of thanks and feasting
With their native friends and all
Began the first Thanksgiving
That now we have each fall.

~ Harriet Whipple

The Harvest of Family

The harvest of his family
On each Thanksgiving Day
Was Granddad's way of giving love;
Good fortune was our pay,

For everyone gained from his gift,
Tradition was begun.
He carried it throughout his years
Until his work was done.

Those special days were precious ones
Through many happy years;
It was a time when joy prevailed,
A time devoid of tears.

The family renewed on love
And friendship thrived in all
Because those days were envy-free
And everyone stood tall.

That kind of harvest has no peer,
It was indeed supreme,
And it still looked upon as prime;
Reality, no dream.

~ Ralph A. Porterfield