What an ‘Ice Day
Seek shelter from the rain
that freezes all it touches—
remain undercover, indoors,
cozy by a blazing fire.
Admire from afar the crystalizing
wood-scape.
A layer of ice forms, clings
enwraps every unprotected thing
and if I open up this window
after a blast of winter chill
will I hear the birds sing
darting to and fro the feeders
before flitting back to safety
in the cedars?
c. Darlene Moore Berg
Filed under Nature
Son Spots
“ Look up at the sky and see God in a cloud” David Lehman
Empty yourself and gaze in rapture heavenward
contemplate a moment or two as the sun peeks
coming out from between the cumulonimbus.
An indistinct silhouette, radiant,
viewed in a singular photograph, halo’d by sunlight—
a figure appears poised above the planet Earth,
striking through a fracture in the clouds.
Arms open in blessing or welcome.
Could it be a reflection from a prior millennium—
Christ in ascension over the hills of Bethany
disciples’ faces raised in apparent awe?
Or maybe a premonition of prophecy,
the long hoped for return in His full Majesty?
Oh, let His Kingdom Come!
Possibly, anyone’s guess, a trick of shadows,
a figment of someone’s fertile imagination?
The image shared hand to hand, scanned into media.
Or could it be an intimation of what will be?
Envision Faith— not to be spurned the blessed Hope.
One day yes, all, everyone, will see together
His glory explode from the firmament
and all life, belief confirmed in Him.
“Why are you standing here staring into the heaven? Jesus has been taken
from you into heaven, but someday he will return from heaven in the same
way you saw him go.” Acts 1:11 NIV
Filed under Religious
New Moon
The man in the moon,
tired, turned the job
over to his daughter,
but as she’s kind of shy
all you can see of her
is one fingernail
lighting up the sky.
Filed under Light hearted, Nature
How Old are You Now?
“The fragrant air of Paradise returns
the aged to their youth.”
Skip like a child
down the gold paved streets.
Wave and smile, laugh with joy
to everyone you meet.
All your long-departed family
and friends you had hoped
and longed to see again.
Grab hands, “ring around the rosy”
with parents, grandparents, aunts,
uncles, cousins, children you wished
you had known
to the tune “Holy, Holy, Holy”
all the same: ageless, merry.
Juggle fruit from the tree of Life.
Toss it back and forth: saint to saint.
No complaint if one drops on a toe
or a poor throw lands another
in the River pouring from the Throne.
No one here will ever be alone.
No one neglected, forlorn
no tears to cry or cheeks to dry
no one deaf or blind or disabled.
No limping, no joints to creak.
Alive and lively with God Almighty
A never ending streak of glory,
Leap for Joy!
c.Darlene Moore Berg
Filed under Light hearted, Religious
Grandmother’s Flower Garden: A Quilt
Who made this quilt, each delicate stitch,
flowers abloom in feed-sack prints?
The answer lies buried somewhere:
my mothers’s beloved aunt, a grandmother
or a great aunt, great-grandmother.
No one alive who knows or can remember.
I slept snugged up under it all my childhood years.
Pulled it up below my chin, all tucked in
from the winter chills.
Washed and dried time after time,
hung outside on an old clothesline,
kissed by the sun and a gentle wind.
No thought then of long term preservation.
Worn and threadbare, edges and binding unraveled.
The batting leaking through the faded petals.
The quilt followed me everywhere—
each move from house to house, town to town
never misplaced—never lost.
no longer in use, I refuse to toss it out as so much rags:
Someone’s loving care,
someone’s industrious fingers,
their hours of endless labor linger
freely bestowed to beautify, comfort a life.
What to do with it now? this battered, tattered quilt?
Should I cut out and frame a remnant or two?
Form a collage bouquet in photographs?
Keep it entire as a reminder of the application of love?
Or shall I make a small pillow out of it with ruffled lace
upon which I will lay my face and dream
I am a child, peaceful in its embrace.
c. Darlene Moore Berg
Filed under Life
No Mistake
for Adam S.
A mistake at the local grocery store:
roasted garlic naan— for communion.
After the blessings of the bread
an aroma permeates the sanctuary.
The flavor lingers on the tongue
Taste it anew with each indrawn breath.
Perhaps, each communion wafer
should be full of flavor and spice:
a reminder that there is nothing bland
about life with our Lord and master—
Jesus Christ!
Filed under Religious
Feel the Beat
“The heart of Jesus beats in every prayer” Malcom Guite
I am aware of a pulse, fast now slow—
it runs erratic with my thoughts.
If I place my fingers on a certain wrist
somewhere close to the scars—
Will I feel there a steady rhythm
calming my own in every whispered prayer?
c.Darlene Moore Berg
Filed under Religious
Apple Picking
Adam picked a peck of apples
tossed one over to his dear wife, Eve—
“Hey, try one of these.”
“Oh, which tree did this come from?”
She asked most innocently.
Adam winked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
And “Yes”, of course, she did.
“Fine, I’ll go pick some of my own!”
And, you know, she did.
He ate one of hers, too,
when she finally got around
to offering….
best flavor of the bunch.
Too bad about the worm in the middle.
c.Darlene Moore Berg
Filed under Light hearted, Religious, Seasonal
Prepare the Way
In the winter
where the sun doesn’t shine
the ice, the snow
clings to the walk
right outside
the shadowed door.
If not careful some person
coming or going
could slip and fall
and their world break apart.
A little salt,
a little shoveling
putting your heart
and back into it
is all anyone needs to do
to clear a safe path
prepare the way.
For some visitor
expectant or not
to come to the door
and knock.
c. 2021 Darlene Moore Berg
Come and Feast
A conclave of cardinals, congregate
in a wild cherry tree barren in the winter.
They are teased by chickadees
who see everything in black and white.
Tufted titmice
feast on the last dried berries
in the bushes below not yet covered
with an early morning snow.
The juncos in solemn grey habits
pose like nuns—
search the grounds for escaped crumbs:
a sunflower seed dropped
by a marauding squirrel
marks their attention.
Whatever escapes from the Master’s table
is free for all to partake.
The mourning doves coo their concordance.
In gratitude for whoever provides
this feast.
Filed under Light hearted, Nature
