Cooking I do, for those I love;

hours in the kitchen, inspired by One above . . .

Each ingredient chosen to nourish the body;

a table set to present our bounty . . .

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I may seem a trivial gesture;

one from which I get such great pleasure . . .

A dash of salt and sprinkle of pepper,

a pinch of my thyme makes it all the better . . .

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A glorious table to greet my guests;

sharing a harmony of flavors put to the test . . .

Watch out! That dish is oh so hot;

No worries, for Pat's ceramic tiles of art protect the spot!

The chill of the season

fills the air as horse and

sleigh move right along;

Hear the chickadee sing

his "Winter Bliss" song . . .

The Snowbird's Song

by F. C. Woodworth

 

The ground was all covered with snow one day,
And two little sisters were busy at play,
When a snowbird was sitting close by on a tree,
And merrily singing his chick-a-de-dee.

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He had not been singing that tune very long
Ere Emily heard him, so loud was his song;
"O sister, look out of the window!" said she;
"Here's a dear little bird singing chick-a-de-dee.

​

"Poor fellow! he walks in the snow and the sleet,
And has neither stockings nor shoes on his feet:
I wonder what makes him so full of his glee;
He's all the time singing his chick-a-de-dee.

​

"If I were a barefooted snowbird, I know,
I would not stay out in the cold and the snow;
I pity him so! oh, how cold he must be!
And yet he keeps singing his chick-a-de-dee.

​

"O mother; do get him some stockings, and shoes,
And a nice little frock, and a hat if he choose:
I wish he'd come into the parlor, and see
How warm we would make him, poor chick-a-de-dee!"

​

The bird had flown down for some sweet crumbs of bread,
And heard every word little Emily said:
"What a figure I'd make in that dress" thought he,
And laughed as he warbled his chick-a-de-dee.

​

"I am grateful," said he, "for the wish you express,
But have no occasion for such a fine dress;
I rather remain with my little limbs free,
Than to hobble about, singing chick-a-de-dee.

​

"There is One, my dear child, though I can not tell who,
Has clothed me already, and warm enough, too.
Good morning! Oh, who are so happy as we?"
And away he flew, singing his chick-a-de-dee.

The "Quiet Marsh" is

where my mind wanders,

Where fiery orange and gold

touch turquoise splendors . . .

​

The Road Not Taken

by Robert Frost

 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could.

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh.

Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I ~
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

"Where the Wild Rose Grows" 

the charms of nature are displayed;

Goldfinches light in airy dogwoods

of sweet pink and jade . . .

​

Hope is the Thing with Feathers

by Emily Dickinson

 

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I 've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Beauty of a Cardinal

by Joseph T. Renaldi

​

I saw a Cardinal in an evergreen tree, 
An aesthetic sight that dazzled me.
A red bird seeking shelter from the snow
Causing my heart to immediately glow.

The Cardinal stood out like a picture fair
As snowflakes struck its body there
Upon a branch of the evergreen tree, 
Nestled among the needles proud and free.

By the Almighty's mysterious design, 
A picture is created that I claim is mine, 
For one brief moment, then the bird is gone, 
But the beauty of the Cardinal will linger on.