Dusty windows leave baskets and books, blowing bells and blueish
birds in view from the kitchen.
It is a Wednesday and a birthday eve of even numbered, lived out years for me. The boys will leave for church and I will clean the rice from the skillet and the chicken from the crock and feel all of this.
Barns and brothers, big and small on an eve of half of the whole hundred...it's 50 years eve and still, it is me.
A goose and a gander, a goat outside of the gate, a garden and a gathering of my thoughts.
A collie and a "calling", I am watchful of them both. And I'm looking for the pretties, the pleasers, the pleasant in the eve of a day. I'm searching for the hints of heaven, the tint of treasure, the bloom of something beautiful because I can do this, I can.
I'm searching the sorrow for the Savior and searching sadness for the souvenir, surveying the sacrifice for a Shepherd; hiding and seeking. These same ole autumn winds blow, like in Kentucky when I was born. They come to play this birthday game for me and perch the prize up high so I will stretch for it........like up in the oak, like out on a limb. I don't love games.....but I will pray for the prizes and I will, on purpose, play.
I see a wide open field of fruit out there in the distance ---ripe for the picking--thrusting stems wave wild in the favor of this faith on this birthday's eve ♥.