Through these eyes

Christmas baguette

2010-10-31T04:24:00.000-07:00

Very early this Christmas morning, pajamas tucked away, hidden under coat and stuffed into boots, I wandered around , looking for a boulangerie, in the small town of Chartres where I ive. I didn't have to, and never usually do on Christmas morning, but somehow, once you know the shops are closed, that's the time you really need something. I knew most boulangeries are closed on Christmas morning, but still wanted to go out and breathe the fresh, crisp white air. I slipped into the boulangerie at the corner of the Town Hall. It was just behind the stables they had set up in the open, with the life-sized crêche. Last night the place was teeming with activity. Not the rush you find in cities where people are so intent on buying gifts at the last minute that it becomes almost a push and shove experience. Here in smaller French towns, though there are lights, decorations and trees, everything seems to be done in a peaceful spirit, more or less. The "Marché de Noël" still has the simple country feeling that the whole family can enjoy at a leisurely pace. Christmas Eve night is an opportunity for a last stroll before the midnight feast, greeting others and looking at the animals brought from farms nearby to create the scene of the baby Jesus in a stall. No white-washed or decorative stables. No dry-cleaned cows or blow-dried, manicured sheep. Instead there were real donkeys and cows with their dung dotted around. There was wreaking straw and other grimy animals a-bleating! Why, even this morning, the stench of the animals, now home and sheltered I trust, still hung thick in the sharp winter air.

"Joyeux Noël!" I piped, along with the old door chimes that jangled as I entered the warm boulangerie. "Vous avez un air aussi bon que votre pain, aujourd'hui!" ("You look as good as your bread this morning!) I winked at the ruddy-cheeked boulanger who roared with laughter. I was sniffing the tantalizing aroma of fresh bread, between cold drafts of air and hot steam of oven. My eyes roamed the shelves with its rows of natural loaves, seed, raisin, fig or nut breads. Huge mounds made with buckwheat, einkorn, spelt, emmer, kamut, long baguettes or shorter pudgy squares with crispy, pointy tips (usually broken off and eaten before you arrive back home). The baker picked a short slim baguette with dark, pointy tips. A five-grain cereal bread. " Un pain comme vous pour vous" (bread like you for you) he said, bowing gallantly. His bald head glistened. I clutched my gift and loved it even more, for his hands, warm from his oven had grasped the bread and laid it in mine, with a twinkle in his eyes. French bakers have taught me a new meaning for " the laying on of hands." as far as bread is concerned. It comes wrapped in the loving, intimate touch of the artisan's hand, far superior alternative for the cold, wrapped bread kept for weeks on a lonely supermarket shelf. For those who prefer this sanitary option, there's more bacteria on your lips than on the bread you eat, handled by the baker's hands! So I have heard.

"Joyeux Noël!" he said.

"Merci bien Monsieur, et bonne journée!" and I turned to leave. It was crusty and warm, as bread should be. I broke it. The holes yawned wide. And I laughed. Far cry it was from processed bread you can roll up into a ball and use in a sling to stone a poor cow to death. I laughed again, as I looked up at the sloping rooftops , glistening with crystals of ice like jewels in the early morning sun, now glowing orange as sunset. Underfoot, the thin ice crunched like toast. Staring up at a rooftop window with a chimney from which fine, lazy smoke curled, I saw one woman, still in nightwear , gazing out from behind half opened shutters. She stared with a wistful gaze down the road. Then suddenly, she turned and saw me looking up at her . On an impulse, I grinned and waved my baguette. It made her laugh.

Now the cathedral bells were ringing, insistent, and with a kind of hollow echo. The narrow deserted street came suddenly alive as busy heels cracked against the cobble stones. A finely dressed family hurried towards the cathedral steps. Later they would again sit around a table, laden with rich Christmas fare left over from last night's celebration.

This day, some homeless old man will also find his meal, perhaps, from the ample scraps off someone's Christmas table, or maybe he'll clutch a loaf of fresh sweet-smelling bread, a Christmas gift from the baker.

What a fine day, this day!

Bentley, the aging Danseur noble

2010-08-15T07:12:00.000-07:00

Cats!

2010-08-08T06:02:00.000-07:00

Image via Wikipedia

Cats! cats!
They lay on their sides,
they lay on their backs;
they spend fewer hours standing
than lying flat.

When life is a drag
and I hate where I'm at,
how I'd love to curl up
And sleep like a cat!

ON A FATHER'S DEATH

2010-08-06T06:13:00.000-07:00

It came to claim him
and he knew
the blood-shot heat
of pain
that seared his chest
no words
no clutch at life
just a passage into oblivion
a passage out of hell.

Year 2010 Vacation bible school project "From prison to palace"

2010-08-01T09:32:00.000-07:00

Two weeks or so of hard work creating and setting up Joseph's palace, mummies, sphynges, a prison. The hieroglyphics and the sun atop palace were the easiest. The sphynges challenged me. The prison walls frustrated me (ran out of pastels and I had to paint the rest) But the kids love everything!

His hands - our hearts

2010-07-21T09:42:00.000-07:00

Every Saturday mid-morning, we are out there in the parking lot of Suggs and Kelly Law Firm under our canopies, tables set for the midday service of a hot meal, dessert and a bag of snacks to go. We serve cold drinks in summer and hot coffee in winter, and for every change of season, there is a chance for the homeless to change out their wardrobe. Not only does CJ(founder) receive an abundance of donations in food kind, but tons of clothes, shoes, accessories and toiletries come in. His back-yard garage is full, and he likes to set up an extra table in the parking lot, laden with shirts and trousers, coats and other garments, sorted out according to size. In case one lucky person obtains a job interview and needs to look dressed up, he can likely pick out something suitable from the lot. You'd be surprised at the great
looking clothes, from suits and prom dresses to uniforms and sportswear, that people cast off our way.
Sometimes, there is a backpack table, and anyone needing a sack can get it from the stock ,after showing a picture ID to make sure that they hadn't just received one. Sharing and consideration for each other are some of the virtues promoted through our ministry. Before the meal, there is a prayer and a short address to all gathered, encouraging them to be polite, neat and reasonable , not only to each other, but to the servers as well, since some amongst us are also in situations of precarity. "We bring what we have to share" CJ announces, "and that is an abundance of love, because we have received love from God and it needs to be shared." He mentions that it would be wonderful if some present that day would not return the following week because they had found employment, but assures them that regardless, we would always be there, each and every Saturday, to feed the hungry, exchange a kind word and pray.

The men and women receive a numbered ticket and queue up. Each one gets a chili hot dog with condiments of his choosing. He gets a bag containing a banana, a packet of chips, cereal and cookies. Then he moves on to the dessert table if he has a mind, and finally chooses a can of soda, a cup of water or coffee. There is a certain air of contentment, gratitude and camaraderie that pervades. The sun shines on a hot day or the rain beats down on other days less favorable, but we are together, and we talk, joke around and the guests dig in.

Now, the interesting thing is that no matter how benevolent you can be towards the homeless, dealing with them presents its particular challenges too. You are tested through this exercise to examine the stuff your apparent unselfishness and empathy is made of. Are you truly understanding, forgiving and kind in the face of rejection, insult and poor attitudes , none of which the homeless are immune to displaying ? They, like the rest of us, can be ungrateful or rude as they have a mind to be. When such behavior s or dispositions are manifested, what is the volunteer called to do? My friend B is as involved and devoted to this ministry as I am. She becomes incredulous at the impatient dissatisfied or outright rude behavior of some - not many - of the homeless. Shouldn't they appreciate everything we try to do for them? Shouldn't they understand that they are not in a position to demand or choose or be grasping and greedy as they feel to? Shouldn't they know they can't be excused just because they are homeless? Her reasoning is indeed sound. But frequently, I wonder inside myself about our duty in all this. Are we supposed to be teaching them a good lesson of discipline or are we there to soothe the friction without reprimanding words, but with a compassionate understanding silence, - the type of response in a look that says you see and know, but love, anyway.

In the former case, the lesson may be one that they already know they have to learn or else have ignored. The ones guilty are never the children amongst them, and those adults have been around long enough. Why would a scolding do any new magic just because it came from us? In the latter case, would total tolerance, absence of reprimand but instead an understanding calm response send home the lesson and change the offensive attitude more effectively? The Word says:"Love covers a multitude of sins" which for me means that you can overlook sometimes, especially when the offender is a homeless person , trapped inside circumstances that too frequently calls forth aggression as a means of survival. Eventually, they can hardly distinguish anymore when to act civilly, or else they hardly care anymore. Further, homelessness, drugs, drinking ,disease, death and desperation hardly allow for the finer human graces or the thought-before-action response to surface every time - at least not for all of them. It does not excuse the wrong behavior, but it explains a great deal and can be enough to call forth a "love that covers all" response from us.

I can only guess at what any one of these human beings have been subjected to (or have subjected himself to) but I do know that many feel less than human after years of deprivation and homelessness. The street life of abuse and atrocities they cannot be sheltered from messes with their minds, and most do not think logically anymore. A vast majority are schizophrenic and haunted by thoughts of being pursued, threatened or singled out in some way. In their world, we may well be the perpetrators!

Most of all, whatever response we choose in dealing with the homeless, we must allow ourselves to grow as Christians through it. The biggest challenge is not just to respond in an admirable fashion in front of the many witnesses, but to accept the deep transforming change within that God desires for us, by stilling our tongues in complaint about the unpleasant encounters, and instead, submitting our every thought and feeling of objection to the affront, to God, who stands in between ourselves and the offender, placing His peace and serenity in our hearts.

Kit-Kat Krave

2010-07-18T06:40:00.000-07:00

Krispy Kat
Krunchy Kat
Kit-kat junkie
Kandy Krush
Kandy rush
after lunch
Krumble
....krunch-krunch

We only remember the good

2010-07-18T03:21:00.000-07:00

This early on a Sunday morning, I am sitting at the desk, writing a short mémoire or personal remembrance of my Aunt who passed away 2 weeks ago, to be read at the funeral service.

It turns out to be a beautiful recollection of her goodness to us as kids. I can picture listeners nodding and maybe smiling as they identify with the feelings I express, and maybe there will be a titter or two at the pictures I painted. They will all agree, I am sure, that there was something almost "saintly" about my Aunty.

I think of the eulogies I have heard at funerals and I wonder: Do people only choose to remember the good after someone dies or do they really only see goodness and perfection when they look back, their minds totally eclipsing any negative memories of the past?

Tell me what you think or what has been your own experience.

TheSouthernJackAss: Fool's Gold ...

2010-07-17T18:07:00.000-07:00

TheSouthernJackAss: Fool's Gold ...

Some healthy vegan substitutes

2010-07-15T12:06:00.000-07:00

Cream and eggs are two frequently used ingredients in the making of desserts, especially ice cream. Vegans prefer to substitute with a more healthy non-dairy choice. Depending on the brand product used, the type of effect desired and the job to be done by the cream or eggs, in some cases the outcome is very near the original, and one can hardly tell the difference.

VEGAN HEAVY CREAM SUBSTITUTE
To make vegan heavy cream substitute you will need:

1/2 block of silken tofu (extra firm)
1/2 cup of plain soy milk.
Blend until thick and creamy and perfectly smooth.

HOME-MADE EGG SUBSTITUTES
Vegan egg replacements are not hard to find. However there are a number of ways you can create your own substitutes from ingredients found in your own kitchen.
To substitute for one egg, try one of the following:
Two tablespoons of cornstarch
Two tablespoons of arrowroot flour
Two tablespoons of potato starch
One heaping tablespoon of soy powder plus two tablespoons of water
One tablespoon of soy milk powder plus one tablespoon of cornstarch, and two tablespoons of water
One tablespoon milled flax seed and three tablespoons of water
One tablespoon chickpeas and one tablespoon of water
One medium banana or half of a large banana, mashed
Two ounces of mashed soft tofu and one tablespoon of water
Two ounces of mashed potatoes and one tablespoon of water
Two ounces mashed beans and one tablespoon of water
1/4 cup applesauce or other pureed fruit
One teaspoon soy flour plus one tablespoon water

Shepherd

2010-07-14T08:28:00.000-07:00

At the
point of departure,
up from your knees,
you left me

and you,
I found,
far distance away,
a-stray,
caught in a thicket,
bleating,
my one
lost
sheep

Papier-mâché recipe and building Egypt

2010-07-13T05:39:00.000-07:00

We worked last night until late o'clock, laying the ground work for the transformation of the school gym into Egypt, our choice this year for VBS. Last year it was Rome and it came off successfully. Most of all, we had a blast. (See photos at this link
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=30217&id=1317527766&l=7e09ad7c80

Can't think how two people can built pyramids, gardens, a palace, sphinxes (sphynges), a prison and Joseph's throne in a week or two, but it has to be done. Last year we proved that Rome could be built in three weeks, but I don't really know the time frame for Egypt. The further along we got last night, the happier Sue became... and the more doubtful was I! By signing-off time, I had singed my fingers making papier-mâché paste, dyed some of my hair green, splashed yellow paint over my jeans and sprinkled my face and arms with glitter. But Sue assured me it was all good.

Here's my recipe for the best papier-mâché:

Combine 1/2 cup all-purpose flour and 2 cups cold water in a bowl.
Add this mixture to a saucepan of 2 cups boiling water and bring it to a boil again.
Remove from the heat and stir in 3 tablespoons of sugar.
Let it cool; it will thicken as it cools. Once it does, it's ready to use.

Backyard fireworks display spirals out of control

2010-07-12T07:58:00.000-07:00

GASTON, SC (WIS) - A Fourth of July fireworks show in one South Carolina town got out of control Sunday night. New video shows the aftermath of the accident.

A viewer sent WIS the original video Monday.

According to the viewer, who asked not to be identified, about 100 church members gathered at a house in Gaston to watch the annual backyard fireworks show.

The fireworks were set up on a small island in a pond when something went terribly wrong.

The video shows what appears to be
the entire fireworks display on fire and people jumping off the island and swimming to safety. The fireworks are seen exploding everywhere, including on land and in the water. People can be seen scrambling for cover.

The seven minute long video shows explosions several minutes after the initial blasts as the fire spread to unexploded fireworks.

A second viewer shared more video with WIS Tuesday. The video starts after most of the fireworks have exploded and shows the island on fire.

In the video, people can be heard asking whether or not all the fireworks have exploded. One man says "Are y'all alright?" Another man replies, "nobody got hit. Everybody got in the water."

Another unidentified man says, "Whooo... that was a quite a fireworks show, too..."

The video ends with somebody saying, "what went wrong, what went wrong?"

One of the witnesses told WIS that a "dud" firework flew up about five feet before falling back into the pile igniting the stockpile.

The mishap did spark a small grass fire that was put out by the group before firefighters arrived.

The viewers who submitted the video would not say where the accident happened. A battalion chief with Lexington County Fire Services did not immediately know the location of the fire call.

Nobody was hurt.

Copyright 2010 WIS. All rights reserved

The musician, the man, the composer...

2010-07-11T07:17:00.000-07:00

Push the pause button on my player (right column of homepage) and go to the1st video (interveiw) or just listen to him play (2nd video). OUAIS! (yeah mon!) Fritz Kreisler - the man - the composer. Love it!

Personality in Art
The influence of the artist's personality in his art finds a most striking exemplification in the case of Fritz Kreisler. Some time before the writer called on the famous violinist to get at first hand some of his opinions with regard to ...Read More

Does God really speak to us?

2010-07-11T05:35:00.000-07:00

My friend Andrew is quite annoyed at people who claim that God spoke to them. "How dare anyone stake such a claim on the personal attention of the Almighty? Only great prophets of old heard God's voice from heaven. People today are only trying to justify their own convictions and desires, trying to give them credibility by saying that 'God told them' or that God called them"

I rarely meet a Christian who has actually heard a voice addressing them from heaven or from some corner of a room, announcing itself to be coming from God. When they do say that God spoke to them, they never go into details about how things really happened and how they knew it was a message addressed to them by God. I am not sure why I hardly ever ask for details. Maybe I don't wish to give an impression that I am doubting , since each person is entitled to believe what he wants about his own experience. Or perhaps I am more interested in hearing what God had to say.

Has God ever spoken to you? How did you know it was God? Does God necessarily use an audible voice or does He send messages through others, through His Word or through events that you witness? How then do you know that it isn't just your own conscience or a strong feeling about something - does it have to be God speaking?

On the other hand, if you doubt that God ever speaks, what do you make of the verse that tells us
"My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” John 10:27 ESV
And why entertain the thought of praying/conversing with God if he doesn't talk back? Where will you get answers?How will you really know He was listening?

I read an article on the subject and I will share it with you:

God Speaks Today
By Martha Noebel
CBN Staff Writer

CBN.com -- God still speaks to the hearts and minds of His people today. Dr. Charles Stanley wrote of four reasons why in his book, How To Listen To God. They are:
1. He loves us just as much as He loved the people of the Old and New Testament days.

2. We need His definite and deliberate direction for our lives as did Joshua, Moses, Jacob, or Noah.

3. He knows we need the comfort and assurance just as much as did the believers of old.

4. He wants us to know Him.
Dr. Stanley shares that some of the ways God chooses to speak to us are ... Read More...

Wide asleep in the pew

2010-07-10T13:52:00.000-07:00

Do I really need to explain the reason why I slept all the way through the sermon this morning?

Have you ever done that? The sermon's not boring and you're not particularly tired, but a cloud of heavy slumber descends just as the preacher gets into it, and there you are, wide open in the pew, head tilted over almost touching the seat , mouth open and drooling...
I believe I heard my mother say once that the Enemy does that. If he can't distract you or cause some kind of confusion or upset for you on the Lord's day, he can just throw some sleep dust into your eyes and there you go. Do you believe that? Can't quite remember if C.S. Lewis had included that ruse in his Screwtape Letters.

Feeling too guilty to give the customary compliment or show some sign of appreciation to the waiting pastor, I found myself filing out with everyone else avoiding the pastor's eyes. It must have been a spanking good sermon ( no less from John Earnhardt, racing car driver Dale's cousin). Maybe I did hear the intro. Something about mosquitoes feeding on blood. He wanted to draw some kind of parallel with Christians needing to feed on the blood of Christ in order to live His life.

I slipped between two old folks shuffling out as though I was in a hurry and looking for someone over the other side of the foyer. But I didn't escape the smile of the most beautiful Pamela, and she caught me inside a warm embrace, beaming up at me as though she was delighted I was just there today! Dear Pamela. Maybe in eighty years you have grown shorter, more fragile, wracked with arthritis and suffering from Parkinson's, but you still manage to remind us of God's all-embracing, forgiving, unconditional love

Waiting for the night

2010-07-08T20:33:00.001-07:00

At the backside of the neighborhood
on the wrong side
sitting on the front steps
hanging with friends
blazing gold earrings
drop from lobes
strained stretched by their weight
wait
for the night
jukebox glamour
dressed in best
club bound
swirling
puffing
sniffing
high
till morning light

Mother Comfort

2010-07-08T12:01:00.000-07:00

She made us mugs of "Milo"
before bed
and we drank
side by side
half drinking
half eating
crunchy, malty beads
still suspended
in a swirl of milky foam
at the top

                                         She and I
                                         sucking
                                         rich, chocolate smell
                                         close loving arms
                                         stroking
                                         close your eyes
                                         head on breast
                                         mother -comfort.
                                         warm sweet sticky drops
                                         from the corners of our mouths
                                         prolong the evening
                                         misty thoughts
                                         of bedtime slumber
                                         upstairs
                                         several mouthfuls away.

IN THE HOLLOW OF THY HAND

2010-07-08T07:43:00.000-07:00

"In the hollow of thy hand"
like eye of hurricane,
calm...
till sudden gale whips from behind
to snatch like a roof torn from its hinge
flagged like paper
flown like kite
tossed across
to land abrupt
dismantled object
in a stranger's yard.

LOVE UNTENDED

2010-07-08T07:05:00.000-07:00

your deep rose
dried
drooped
head on stalk
petals crisp
thirsty brown
lifeless...
love
un-watered
withered in its bloom

WISTERIA

2010-07-07T10:46:00.001-07:00

dripping
dropping
topping the eaves
cascade of lavender
like grapes
hung in cluster
soft in Spring
as light as sweet,
warm fragrance
floating on a breeze
wisteria

MANY MANSIONS

2010-07-07T10:40:00.000-07:00

Brother's keeper,
doer unto the least of these,
my brethren.

His hands (click)
His feet
His Word.

Plate of chili
under steamy sun,
take, eat,
for this is my body
broken for you,
take, drink,
a cup of life,
one more day,
homeless,
hopeless stray
I show you the way
to that city
In my Father's house
there are many mansions
I have prepared a place for you.

MAXCY GREGG PARK

2010-07-07T10:18:00.000-07:00

Depicting a new dawn- survival, and a passage into life.

Coming out from the frame of an exit way, they step forward into a luminous future. The bronzed figures of a man and woman are holding a child by the arms, striding joyously, as the child gaily skips along between them, keeping up with their pace. It is a representation of hope and healing. Renewal. Behind the open door-frame, not too far behind, others ,
from the youthful to the elderly, eagerly await their turn to pass through. The shade of the surrounding trees overshadow their forms, as though associating them with the dark of doom attached to a disease such as cancer. On their side of the door frame, there is hardly a sense of expectation. Yet, the figures all face the exit, walking on, willing to see what lies ahead for them if they do not give up. Some, slightly stooped, cannot actually see ahead beyond the doorway where the couple and child, further along the journey, have already made it, together.

Maxcy Gregg Park at the intersection of Blossom and Pickens Street was founded in part by Richard and Annette Bloch, Richard being a cancer survivor who wished to celebrate his victory over the illness. The park and its images at the entrance, described above, would transmit to all, a positive message of hope for recovery from the dread disease. Further in from the entrance, park benches and a white trellis under shady trees present an inviting setting for any who would take a rest from their stroll through the well maintained gardens. On the ground there is a wide labyrinth in concrete and your footsteps follow the pattern that mirrors the walk through life's twists and turns, sometimes losing, sometimes finding the way, but knowing there is a way out.

Perhaps the derelicts and addicts are the ones who stop most often to enjoy this park placed along a busy roadside, but even they share the human experience of troubled times and the hope they can find offered by others who have already been there.

OFF-CAMPUS LIFE

2010-07-07T10:11:00.000-07:00

"Boom- Boom! Thud! thud!"
"Boom -Boom! Crash!

If you have ever lived in the apartment below, then you probably have begun to guess at what I am griping about. But I don't live in the apartment below. I actually live at the top of a one-hundred-year-old two-story house, shared by a couple of teenagers renting below! Yet, it is amazing the difference it does not make in terms of noise disturbance. Footsteps,
slamming doors and cupboards, music, laughter and conversation rise like heat at all hours of night or day, but especially when you need some peace and quiet. Sometimes I wonder if it really is because you need peace and quiet.

Peace and quiet is not a part of the deal when you reside as I do, in close proximity to the largest university in the state. It's not the campus life, but the off-campus activities that you have to deal with. Most houses around here are rented by students of the university. They come and go like flies in and out of season, moving in for the term and moving away for holidays or whenever their studies are through. There are always "For Rent" signs outside on a front lawn. Brick or stone houses have been split up into one or two-bedroom flats, and with rents sky high, the business is booming.

In all this bustle, what of the residents who have lived in the neighborhood for generations? They have experienced many changes, as quiet families and their pets have been replaced by gangs of teenagers, their fast cars, outdoor wet bars and heavy metal band instruments sheltered under the garage. Weekend parties, late-night home-coming, only to gather again at 4 a.m. in the streets or driveways to continue the party. Breaking bottles and howling and shouting in inebrious merriment - such is the excitement of the off campus life to which "outsider residents", willingly or not, are privy. Does it recall for us a memory of our youthful, carefree past, and therefore solicit tolerance and indulgence or does it give rise to a sense of outrage at the intrusion?

Let me say there is however another side. Living so close to the hub makes it easier to access the many events and happenings, from theatre and exhibitions to lectures and sporting events ,open to all, either free of cost or for a minimal fee. I have to say that I have taken advantage of these opportunities and enjoyed them myself, feeling grateful for my location. But the noisy festivals to celebrate St Patrick's day and Halloween that are mostly put on for the benefit of students to carouse and drink themselves senseless are not necessarily welcome. Yet, it may well present a ghost of a chance to bridge the generation gap, if you allow your lawn to be trampled on by the crowds of young people as they walk by. They shout friendly greetings to you as you peek through your window, waving back and tearing up as your tulips suffocate. On the brighter side, you could set up a beer stand or open your yard for parking, just for the heck of it... (charging a small fee as some do, thereby profiting from the occasion).

Like it or not, such traditions and the inconveniences they bring, have become a part of your life. At least until spring break comes around and quiet is restored for a spell.

The hills

2010-07-07T09:55:00.001-07:00

Distant hills don't roll
they breathe and raise
their breasts of green
and varied hue

And mist sighs
gently steals
willow arms
to wrap around
soft embrace
before the sun awakes