Who Can Resist

We’re expecting! The whole family—we’re so excited—expecting, again.

Gas or no, who can resist an infant’s smile? And coo…, they’re so vulnerable and sweet. Their skin smells so…, like a baby.

I know, I know, the nightly news is bad. The newspapers run red with murder and war. Sometimes you hate the idea of bringing a kid into a world that’s crazy.

But we’re expecting! Right now—soon.

What? Angels sing?

“Glory to the newborn King. Peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled!”

Yes. Who can resist?

Father Christmas Smiles Gray

Another Poem. Season's Greetings!

This is the view from my window. What's yours—physically or emotionally?

Father Christmas Smiles Gray

The river, she is busy today.

Roiled and irritated

runs ahead of the storm,

a grab for the Gulf and warmer climes.

Dry leaves chatter, "Foul,"

to the southern blow.

"Make up your mind, it's December,

we've given all."

The neighbor's awkward palms

planted out of place, 

wave their fronds

like silly schoolgirls—cry, "Bully."

Swaying on the banks,

naked cypress wag

lacy Spanish moss north or south

harlots to any passing gusts.

Red vinca hold fast their bed;

snap like a matador's cape,

"Bring it ON,"

they taunt the North wind.

Now tears of rain splash dance

cold across the surface.

Father Christmas Smiles Gray

in Southwest Louisiana.

Winter Thanks

In winter I lean toward melancholy. I tend to leech happiness from nature's color.  

Today I wrote a poem and wanted to share. 

Winter Thanks

The gold and copper jewels

lay scattered brown across the lawn.    
A week ago their glitter

shimmered in the breezes.

Bare branches beseech the sky,

or is it praise?

Upstretched thanks for the rest.

Sap’s down with a winter nap.