Thread Memories

A patchwork quilt laid across a bed.

Crocheted doilies and tablecloths folded in a cedar chest.

Handmade garland draped on a Christmas tree.

Reminders of soft wrinkled hands

That will be absent this year.

Memories left for present and future 

Generations to see,




The love

The thread preserves.




Talking to the Dead

I speak to the dead

And they to me.

Voices in my head

From the deceased.

Ashes to ashes

And bones to dust.

Bodies wither and decay,

But memories, words remain.

I talk with the dead-

The lifeless live on.

Because of Daddy

I can…
Drive a stick-shift,
Change the oil in my car,
Hook-up and back a trailer,
And problem-solve anything.

I appreciate…
Back-porch sitting,
A strong cup of coffee,
A loyal canine companion,
And the aroma of freshly cut grass.

I possess…
Deep, cryptic blue eyes,
An expansive vocabulary,
A regard for trivial knowledge,
And a unique perspective on life.

I endeavor to…
Be a soul of action,
Think more than I talk,
Give myself to those in need,
And hold my feet to the flame.

I am…
A strong, independent woman.

Daddy and I out at the farm

Fishing Buddy

Sitting on the dock,
Lines in the water.
Friendships are deepened,
No words are needed here.

Standing on the bank,
Conversing while angling.
Casting and reeling,
Metaphors for living.

Fisherman on the water,
Fisher of men in the world.
Casting out the bread of life,
Bringing in hungry souls.

Walking in heaven,
Fishing with the saints–
Peter, Andrew, James, and John.
God loves a fisherman.