First Fire

This morning we planned for Adam to build the first fire in the living room fireplace. Cool temperatures reigned yesterday and the world is moist and fallish. We women-folk of the family are enjoying our morning on the couch. I'm contemplating making tapioca pudding today. And I'm writing another book.

Last night, a friend shared her impressions upon visiting the home of a woman who had just died. Her descriptions were lovely, warm, insightful. From them, I wrote this poem:

Shirley

When we came, her soul had flown to Jesus.
The house was still, the mourning had begun.
And she whose pain had been a daily anguish,
Was deep in the embrace of the Healing One.

The body that was twisted in its illness,
The voice that had been silenced for so long,
Was even then arisen in the heavens,
A mouth and voice exulting in new song.

For she is singing as she never did before,
And all her agonies are now undone.
For now she lives; her soul has flown to Jesus,
Deep in the embrace of the Eternal One.

September 29, 2010