I Wish I Were a Little Bird

by Lucy M. Edmunds

photo by Michael Weidner on Unsplash
I wish I were a little bird
With strong wings I could fly
Away up there above the clouds
And pick a hole in the sky

Wouldn't that be wonderful?
Cause then I could see God.
I'll ask the birds about it
They wouldn't think it odd.

They prob'ly see Him every day
I'm very sure they do
'Cause they are always so happy
They make me happy, too.

New Freedom

by Lucy M. Young

photo by Harald Arlander on Unsplash
At last my mind and heart and soul are free
Uncluttered and unfettered
The heavy chains of doubt and fear
Have turned to rainbows at my feet
My spirit's free
My mind can grow and bloom
In new creative channels.
My heart can spread its wings and soar
To joy unknown to me before.
My soul will bow before my Lord
In humble adoration,
In deep and lasting gratitude
For this most precious gift of happiness.

Nostalgia

by Lucy M. Young

photo by Jukka Heinovirta on Unsplash
September with its various activities was my favorite month:
Going back to school with eagerness, anticipation and a little trepidation;
The smell of books and chalks and pencils;
Goldenrod along the roadsides;
Warm delightful days and cool crisp nights;
Stopping on the way from school at the potato field
Where father had been working all day long
Digging the winter store of white potatoes,
While the waiting horses stamped and neighed,
Impatient for their warm dry stalls
And their nightly ration of water, oats and hay;
Riding home on a lumpy wagon load of bagged potatoes;
Listening as they rolled and tumbled, rumbling into the waiting bin
       beneath the cellar window;
Gathering apples red-cheeked, crisp and juicy
To eat with popcorn on long winter evenings while mother read aloud
       our favorite books;
Bringing succulent plums - yellow, red and blue,
To mother to preserve for winter use;

Stepping from the chilly air into the steamy, lamplit kitchen
Redolent with the spicy smell of pickles simmering on the
       old black iron woodstove.
For supper there were baked sweet apples,
Mother's luscious brown bread,
And sweet fresh milk from our own Jersey cows;
Or hot soup from the last tomatoes in the garden,
With crusty home-made bread, hot from the oven,
Drenched with father's golden dairy butter.

And there were those lovely, lazy Saturdays -
Blue haze on the mountains,
A tapestry of red and gold and bronze spread across the countryside;
Clean air fragrant with the scent of frost-touched grass
       and burning leaves.

Those were the days.
Nothing can ever be so perfect as those happy, youthful days
        in retrospect.
There must have been cold, gloomy, rainy days of grumbling discontent,
But they have been forgotten,
Obliterated by the kindly hand of Time.
Recalling those lovely days of yesteryear I shed a tear or two
        of longing
For that long-lost past when I was young and life was good.
I breathe a prayer of thankfulness, however,
For these memories of home and loving parents;
And bless the Lord for giving me the golden opportunity
To live those joyous carefree days of yore.

Freedom

by Lucy M. Young

photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash
My body may be handicapped
But my mind and heart are free,
And my spirit leads me outward
Where my heart most longs to be.

I soar with the astronauts
In weightless carefree joy,
The stars my sparkling neighbors,
The moon a bright new toy.

I roam through fields of clover
And drink from mountain streams;
Reality's so dull beside
The splendor of my dreams.

They lead me through the velvet night
Where moonglow lights my way,
From the vivid glow of sunset
To the rosy dawn of day.

With the wind and rain for playmates
My gypsy heart roams free,
From stately stands of virgin pine
To the wind caves by the sea.

O'er the burning sands of the desert
And the Northland's ice and snow,
In the rushing roar of the ocean,
Great peace and joy I know.

But I must needs return to earth,
To my crutches and my pain;
'Til my spirit leads me outward
To freedom once again.

Free Spirit

by Lucy M. Young

photo by James Wainscoat on Unsplash
My body may be handicapped,
But my mind and heart are free;
And my spirit leads me outward
Where my heart most longs to be.

I soar with the astronauts
In weightless carefree joy;
The stars my sparkling neighbors,
The moon a bright new toy.

I roam through fields of clover
And drink from mountain streams,
Reality's so drab beside
The glory of my dreams.

They lead me through the velvet night
Where moonglow lights my way,
From the vivid glow of sunset
To the rosy dawn of day.

With the wind and rain for playmates,
My gypsy heart roams free;
From stately stands of virgin pine
To wind caves by the sea.

On the burning sands of the desert,
And the Northland's ice and snow,
In the rushing roar of the ocean
Great peace and joy I know.

But I must needs return to earth,
To my crutches and my pain;
'Til my spirit leads me outward
To freedom once again.