Cooled by a lovely summer breeze, I followed a cowpath through the trees - A narrow path, worn smooth and deep, By the daily passage of cattle and sheep.
Songbirds flitted from tree to tree Caroling joyously, soaring free Through the dappled shade of the maple grove, Secure in their Heavenly Father's love.
My eyes downcast, I searched the ground, Wondering what treasures might be found In the grass and weeds by the side of the trail, Perfect cover for pheasant and quail.
Had I been looking up, I would not have seen, Partly hidden by a grassy screen, The four speckled eggs in a tiny nest Awaiting the warmth of the mother bird's breast.
Oh, for the faith of that little bird Who built her home in the path of the herd; With only the grass for her sheltering roof - Safe by God's grace from each plodding hoof.
It had been warm that fall, There had been very little frost. The grass was lush and green in all the meadows. The leaves, 'though shot with gold and scarlet, Clung tightly to the branches, And by Columbus Day, the farmers had not yet brought home the young stock From the summer pasture on the mountain.
That night, October twelfth, without warning it turned cold. The clouds built up with ominous intent. A strong, cold north wind whistled 'round the chimneys and the windows, Then snowflakes started falling thick and fast.
All night it snowed. The wind piled drifts of snow around the buildings. The roads were clogged, we huddled in our homes. Our thoughts and prayers were ever with the cattle on the mountain With only trees for shelter from the storm.
At daybreak, soon as chores were done, the farmers came together To try to find and bring their cattle home. All day, through snowy woods and drifts, they searched the frigid mountain; We waited and we worried and we prayed.
Long after dark we heard them coming through the frozen darkness; 'Though wet and cold and hungry, they were safe. Not one was lost, they all came safely home. We knew our prayers were answered - God had been upon the mountain And kept them safe throughout the stormy night.
I wonder what the good Lord had in mind When He created green tomato horn worms. Did He think them beautiful? They are a truly lovely color And all creatures great and small are beautiful to Him. Or was it their tenacity and strength that He admired? Their imposing size intimidates the birds And their prodigious appetites are something to behold.
They are a gardener's nightmare. I'm sure there must have been a twinkle in His eye When He envisioned our reaction to them. I know He had good reasons for putting them in my tomato patch But I do wonder what He really had in mind When He created them.
I thank the Lord for books that take me places I can never go in person; Books that grant my dearest wishes And fulfill romantic dreams of travel and adventure.
I thank the Lord for books that lift me high above the rest of mundane daily tasks; Books that help me soar on wings of joyous exultation to Shangri La; For books that take me to exotic lands - Australia, Egypt, Burma, Mandalay, The land of the Midnight Sun.
I thank the Lord for books that tell of strong, courageous people Whose selfless lives have made this world a better place to live; For books of travel in the Holy Land That let me wander reverently, vicariously, where Jesus walked.
And then I thank Him for the golden opportunity To live where I could learn to read these books; To live in freedom in a land where books are neither censored nor destroyed But made available to everyone who has the will To take advantage of this precious gift.
Time out from Lucy’s poetry to share a little verbal snapshot of Lucy and her sister, Barbara from a time – maybe 30 years ago – when the two performed a delightful old song about two feuding mountain families. If memory serves (which, more often than not, it doesn’t), their church had a talent show and this was their hilarious contribution. Picture two gray-haired ladies in overalls and straw hats, up on the stage at the front of a church full of their fellow parishioners….Here’s what they sang:
Gather 'round me children and I'll tell a story Of the mountains and the days when guns was law When two families got to feudin', it was bound to end in shootin' So just listen close, I'll tell you what I saw
Oh, the Martins and the Coys they was reckless mountain boys And they took up family feudin' when they'd meet They would shoot each other quicker than it took your eye to flicker They could knock a squirrel's eye out at ninety feet.
All this fightin' started out one Sunday mornin' When old Grandpa Coy was full of mountain dew Just as quiet as a churchmouse, he stole in the Martins' henhouse Cause the Coys they needed eggs for breakfast, too
Oh, the Martins and the Coys they was reckless mountain boys Coz old Grandpa Coy's gone where the angels live When they found him on the mountain he was bleedin' like a fountain Cause they punctured him 'til he looked like a sieve.
After that they started out to fight in earnest And they scarred the mountains up with shot and shell There was uncles, brothers, cousins, why they bumped 'em off by dozens Just how many bit the dust is hard to tell.
Oh, the Martins and the Coys, they was reckless mountain boys At the art of killin' they become quite deft They all know'd they shouldn't do it but before they hardly knew it On each side they only had one person left.
Now the sole remaining Martin was a maiden And as purty as a picture was this Grace While the one remaining boy was the handsome Henry Coy And the folks all knew they'd soon meet face to face.
Oh the Martins and the Coys, they was reckless mountain boys But their shootin' and their killin' sure played hob And it didn't bring no joy to know that Grace and Henry Coy Both had sworn that they should finish up the job.
So they finally met upon a mountain pathway And young Henry Coy he aimed his gun at Grace He was set to pull the trigger when he saw her purty figure You could see that love had kicked him in the face.
Oh the Martins and the Coys they was reckless mountain boys But they say their ghostly cussin' gave them chills But the hatchet sure was buried when sweet Grace and Henry married It broke up the best durn feud in these here hills.
You may think this is where the story ended But I'm tellin' you the ghosts don't cuss no more Coz since Grace and Henry wedded They fight worse than all the rest did And they carry on the feud just like before.
When the day is gray and I can't find my way Through the mists of sadness and pain, A light seems to shine through the darkness for me And my heart is uplifted again.
For Jesus is there and He whispers to me, "I'll be with you, my child, all the way; "So don't be afraid, I will always be near "To guide you through every day."
I know He is with me wherever I go And His love is a shining light To guide me and keep me safe on my way Through confusion and darkest night.
The Lord holds me up when I'm weak or in pain, When my load seems too heavy to bear; So I trust in Him daily, and lean on His strength, And rely on His tender care.
Just as a mother holds her child And bids him be unafraid, Just so Jesus holds us close to His heart With a love that will never fade.
When it is time for me to depart And this world I may no longer roam, I know He'll be with me to take my hand And lead me all the way home.
Another Sunday morning, Lord, and I must stay at home Missing the fellowship, the joy and peace of worship in Your church. I long for the tranquility I feel on entering Your sanctuary. There trouble, sadness, worry disappear My soul rejoices. My heart, no longer burdened with the problems of my daily life, Is lifted in Thanksgiving. Where two or three are gathered in Your name There You will be among them; But Lord, when I must worship all alone, Will You be with me? Will You be near me, strengthening my faith And guiding me serenely through the day? I don't know why I'm questioning Your presence Because I know when I forget myself and rise above self-pity That You are with me always. Even in the darkest depth of sorrow and despair, I know without a doubt that You answer every prayer if only to say "No". Your answers may not coincide with what I want to hear; But You know what is best for me And I'll abide by Your decisions, Lord, whatever they may be. And even though I cannot be in church today Your everlasting love will comfort me And fill my heart with hope.
Lord, keep me laughing In spite of pain and disillusionment when my vision's dimmed by unshed tears And naught around me seems worth living for.
Keep me laughing, Lord, when all my efforts are in vain; With disappointment my daily portion; when everything I say or do is misinterpreted And failure dogs my footsteps.
Keep me laughing And help turn my sadness into joy. When trouble fills my days, And nights of worry seem to have no end; when insults, angry words, and criticisms Are being hurled at my defenseless head, Lord, keep me laughing to the bitter end.
I would give everything I have or ever hope to have If I could but return to yesteryear And Christmas as it used to be when I was young By ordinary standards we were poor. But we didn't know it Money was a very scarce commodity. Not knowing what it was, we didn't miss it; For we were truly rich beyond compare in all the things that matter We had love and understanding, Security from cold and hunger. We were content with what we had. Our world was beautiful, our happiness complete. Our home was filled with so much love and Christmas spirit That I can almost taste it even now.
We never made a Christmas list Nor asked for any special thing. But waited with such glad anticipation for Christmas morning To find our home-made gifts beneath the tree, And see the joy on the faces of our loved ones When they received the things we'd made for them.
Memories come crowding back Of snow and sparkling, starry nights; The one large Christmas star which shone above the mountains in the East Bringing in the tree and trimming it; The cold clean smell of balsam Spicy smells of Christmas goodies baking in the kitchen, Smiling faces, happy hearts, excited chatter; Oyster stew on Christmas Eve; Oranges and nuts and shiny red-cheeked apples; Candy bags upon the branches of the tree; Mother at the organ playing Christmas Carols While we gathered 'round her singing joyously.
Santa Claus was just a pleasant character like Mother Goose or Cinderella's fairy godmother. We knew what Christmas really meant - The birthday of our Lord. We knew our gifts came from each other In memory of His birth.
Dear Lord, I'd give all I possess If I could just have one more Christmas as it used to be With all the warmth and love and joy and peace But I do thank you most sincerely for these precious memories Of Christmas day at home so long ago.
When I am gone remember me with laughter And let it be my legacy to you For laughter is life's ever ready leavening It's ever present, ever fresh and new.
There's nothing in the world so sad or frightening That a hearty laugh won't lessen all your fears Recall my foolish blunders, zany antics And remember me with laughter, not with tears.
Woodsmoke and Cardamom 