PEN ART - EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT

A Morning Poem by Sheila Gail Landgraf

This morning I cried.

I cried about everything,

Everything  I’m losing and 

Everything I’m gaining

As I continue on with the day-to-day of life.

I thought about every minute ticking by,

And every moment that has not yet arrived.

About the power of existing in and with each moment.

I am not totally happy, I am not totally sad,

I just am.

It is good some days just to be.

Always learning, always changing, always growing,

Always discovering new miracles.

I’m just alive in a constantly changing world,

And this morning the thought of the miracle of life amidst it all grabbed me unexpectedly.

As I watched the sun peak the sky 

Life  formed a knot in my throat,

and I cried.

I cried mostly  because of how it all comes together,

piece by amazing wonderful piece

like an artist brushing on stroke on top of surprising stroke

then finishing with His signature.

Every lifetime exactly as it should be,

Original, unique and oh so beautiful.

I am thankful for life and all the unannounced arrivals of life.

My moments are my moments and my minutes are my minutes,

None of them can be wasted!

I pull them closer to my heart

As I hear time ticking on and I sense the things that really matter.

They all mesh together with this unending love 

That extends itself through past, present and all the tomorrows.

For a few minutes in the early morning light my heart was wide awake and fully grasping

The total wonder of life,

Of blessings and constant surprises.

Suddenly I found it so overwhelming.

So; this morning I cried.

But please don’t worry about me,

I felt God hug me very tight.

I know; He said.

Everything will be alright.

Keep moving!

SEASONS - A POEM OF WINTER

BY SHEILA GAIL LANDGRAF

I open my back door to a windy blustering day and try to find my cat.

His water bowl is frozen over. 

I pet him and bring him inside to get warm.

I feed him warm milk by the fire and watch him curl up in a ball content and happy to  purr the day away.

I step out of the warm house to get the mail and feel the cutting wind blow sharply across my face. 

Winter is here. 

It comes slowly spreading its dark shadows across the land.

With no warning at all; it has arrived. 

The darkest days of the year begin, bringing cold, pouring rain. 

It is time to pull out my heaviest coat.

As I hear the silence grow I recognize this soft sound of winter 
It comes tiptoeing into our world with quiet steps
Steps that fall gently around those spaces of my life that are usually loud and full of sound.  
But now there is a hush on the land as everyone waits on the cold to pass.
They stay huddled inside under piles of blankets.

 The birds have all flown away and I miss their lovely songs.

Those few who stayed behind are now shivering under the eaves of someone's house, hoping to catch some heat from the outside walls as the smoke billows out from the busy chimney tops.

Straight and tall and waiting, the black trees stand against the gray sky and shiver.

Winter brings a different dance, one that is whirling and dark.

I must find my warm hat. 

I will begin to wear my wool scarf again.

 Just when the sky is grayest and you think all joy is lost;

The merry red and sometimes rusted sleds come out of hiding.

Tow-haired boys pull them along the hillsides with slippery ropes.

Big eyed little girls grab their scarves and mittens and run outside to play.

Snowmen appear and begin their dance up and down the lane.

White flakes drift through the crisp air and land on very cold noses.

Passing carolers stroll along singing as if they were not even cold,
Their outlines stand against the dark sky, all bundled inside their coats and mittens and scarfs. 

Christmas comes alive and lasts for twelve days in the best places.

It is a nice break into the gray bleakness of the silent season.

On New Years Day I look out the window and see dark even in the middle of the day.  What a strange time to be turning a page and beginning again.

Do all good beginnings not seek for light?

Remembering the secret to problems that can’t be solved right away;

 I grab my favorite book from the shelf and temporarily take a summer vacation.  There is still light inside my heart and imagination and it warms the room.  Sipping Chai tea that my daughter made in my big overstuffed chair, I snuggle deep into a story and read right through the darkest days of winter.

 After good distractions from all my favorite authors I find myself sitting by the fireplace with warm memories that will last me till spring,  I drink in the luxury of basking in an unexpected moment of  absolutely no activity and my soul realizes that winter is just a short snuggle until the sun decides to shine again.

As I bundle up and head out the door for errands my heart is cheered with the lovely unexpected and unanticipated surprises of winter.  I finish my errands and stop for a small treat, a pleasant reward for braving the cold evening air. 

Looking out the storefront window while sipping hot chocolate I ponder the fact that the stars shine brighter against a winter sky. 

The skyline of the cityscape blinks back at me as if to give a special winter’s greeting.  It stands crisp and bright and glowing against the night sky, lovely and unafraid of tomorrow.

And every winter comes and goes this quickly with its sneaky little moments of warm memories that make up for the cold weather.

Why am I surprised every year all over again?

PEN ART AND THIS IS FALL

AND THIS IS FALL

(Writing and photography by 

Sheila Gail Landgraf)

"It is the summer's great last heat, 
It is the fall's first chill:
They meet."  
(Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt)

This old favorite verse of poetry reminds me that we are officially beginning the  Fall Season.   This lovely season always feels just a bit too short.  

I never grow tired of enjoying the time and every day feels like a fresh new gift from God. 

 Fall is my favorite season. 

The Irish love to say “Autumn days come quickly, like the running of a hound on the moor.”  

It is so true; one day you are standing in the heat of summer, and a few days later you begin to hear the snapping and cracking of the trees as they adjust to the cold and say hello to autumn.   You know it will not be long before “the frost is on the pumpkin.”   

Even the rain changes to a soaking kind of wet instead of a blowing pounding kind of wet.  Autumn rains can be soothing falling on the rooftops at night.  

You begin to smell smoke from wood stoves and fireplaces burning off the chill of their owner's houses.  

The sky becomes busier with the sights and sounds of birds migrating to a warmer place for the winter.  If you live in one spot long enough you will come to recognize the birds that have fall flight patterns through your area.  They light in ponds to rest and you know it is a sign of Fall.  So is the apple harvest, with its lovely rolling hillsides full of apple crates just brimming over with luscious fruit.        

It seems as if the trees enjoy taking turns changing their colors.  

The poplars like to go first, then the maples, then the others follow suit until they all stand vividly together, as if dressed for some elaborate banquet that we all have suddenly stumbled upon.  They  wave and invite us to their dance and we feel so honored to be their guest.  

Delicious fall recipes are spread on tables across the land, using the bountiful pumpkins, nuts, maple sugar and apples.  It is a feast for the table and a feast for the eyes as well.  Everything has a festive flavor.

Local fall customs come out to play.  Football teams and small town festivals and carnivals.  

Do you have a favorite thing about Fall that you find yourself doing or seeing or looking forward to that let’s you know for sure the season has truly arrived in your heart as well as the calendar?  

My list is full of so many things; I doubt I could even name them all.  

The fall foliage color tops my list of favorite things. My camera will get no rest during this season.  Fall is heaven to a photographer.  I love capturing the color and I love capturing the festive community events.  Each festival seems to bring a new work of art, a fresh way to recognize the beauty of the local people against the landscapes they call "home."  

My artistic soul is captured by the way the sun shines this time of the year. Technically this is called the Autumnal Equinox, but I would rather have the same 'kindred spirit' as Anne Shirley from Ann of Green Gables and make up a much better name.  I want to label this lovely autumn sunshine “The Dance of The Sun Through A Swirling Pool of Colors.”   Even those words seem not justified by the actual beauty presented.  

The word equinox comes from the Latin words “equal night.”  I like to turn that definition toward the positive in my mind and think of this season as a time of “equal light.”  At any rate, the slanted sun crosses the celestial equator and the temperatures begin to drop.  Slowly the days start to get shorter than the nights, but the hours of slanted sun daylight that we do have to enjoy are dazzling with vivid and brilliant colors and delightfully crisp air.   This all tends to make the earlier evenings seem more peaceful and relaxing.  

Fall is especially beautiful in the South as the sprawling mountainous landscapes silently explode with red, yellow and orange flames.  The leaves begin to jump off the trees and from your car windows you see people raking their yards.  Children take turns jumping into the leaf piles, until their parents take note and begin to teach them how to rake too.  

Football season totally occupies the locals of the land, and college towns create and cater to all types of personalities that best present their beloved teams.   Enthusiasm runs rampant.  Whole towns are dressed in team colors on certain days.   People bring out their sweaters and hoodies and warm socks.  They roast marshmallows and tail-gate and carve pumpkins and fill vases with flowers of rust, yellow, purple and orange.  Door fronts across the nation become much friendlier.  Friendly scarecrows appear everywhere.  Yards are full of busy squirrels scampering around trying to hurry up and finish storing their food for the winter.  If you simply watch the behavior of the animals and the plants, you will know that Fall is in progress.

Poetic love songs tend to happen during this season more than other seasons.  Tired poets are refreshed and inspired again.   Artists bring their canvases out of storage, to capture the beauty of the moments that will quickly fade and never be again.  Chefs inventing new soups are glad of the chance to turn from the challenging meals of summer to the more creative yet traditional meals of Fall.  School children suddenly seem to be on display everywhere you go, with their books and lunch pails and hair ribbons and flannel shirts.  Yellow buses bring traffic to a creeping halt as if to say “step aside, this is our season.”   Goblins and ghouls roam the streets evidently looking for food and are soon favored with sweet sticky candy apples and candy corn and chocolate. 

It is a time of great thankfulness and a time to share the bounty of the gifts that God grants to us in abundance.  It is a time for families to gather together and share the harvest that comes from loving one another.

The magic is everywhere. 

This is Fall. 

PEN ART - LEAVING

(I wrote this poem several years back when I thought we were going to have to sell our home.  Fortunately, by yet another miracle of God in my life, things got better and it did not happen; but God did let me capture the moment and the truth of the whole emotional experience here in words.)

LEAVING

(Writing and photography by:  Sheila Gail Landgraf)

"I'm leaving,"
I speak to a house than cannot even speak back to me.
Somewhere deep in my heart I imagine hearing answering words,
Could it just be my imagination?
"I have served you and loved you for so long!"
"Yes."
It is all that I can answer back, for no mere words are sufficient.
Fourteen years I have laid my head on your pillows,
Watched how the sunlight slanted from your windows,
Sought my refuge here at the end of the day,
Saw the rainbows that formed from the sunlight on the kitchen walls around seven a.m. each morning.
I fed my family in your rooms,
Heard the sound of children's laughter from your halls,
Warmed myself in front of your fires,
Baked cookies after school and helped kids with homework here,
Prayed with only you for company.
I cleaned you,
Painted you,
Dressed you up in new clothes.
I kept renewing you as you grew older.
But alas, you cannot do the same for me;
You are just a house,
With walls that cannot speak.
You do not have a soul,
Or do you?
You are helpless to help me,
But I sense your compassion as I softly take the last deep breath before I leave you.
You must know my breaking heart,
And you must feel the pain I feel from leaving you behind.
The place that I have always known as home
Has been abruptly ripped away from me.
I'm so sorry that I could not save you this time,
Like so many times before.
There was nothing I could do.
I shall not return except in the dreams of night,
And through memories that will be sure to fade over time,
No matter how hard I hold on to them.
I thought I would grow old here,
But it isn't to be.
May your new faces love you as much as I have.
May I somehow find your peace and joy in the next place,
Where ever they let me go.
Finally the words come that I've been searching for;
Just two little words,
"Thank you."
Then four more,
"I will miss you."
I gently close the door on fourteen happy years and walk away.
The azaleas on the stoop wave goodbye.
The redbird in the front yard plumb tree chirps his farewell.
The fig tree stands silent and green as I leave my heart in a trail of little pieces down the road.

PEN ART - A POEM FOR FALL

LIVING IN AWE
A Poem that doesn't rhyme:

(Written by Sheila Gail Landgraf)

The crisp sharp sunlight filters down through my bedroom window.

It nudges me awake from warm and cozy sleeping.

The air is cool as I regretfully leave the comfort of warm quilts and grab my robe.

Bare feet against wooden floors whisper that winter is coming soon.

The air feels fresher; almost as if a cool rain has fallen through the night,

Leaving only cheerful sunlight behind.

Everything is brighter and cleaner today.

I take deeper breaths. 

The air feels good and fresh in my lungs.

I breathe in Fall and all of its wonderfulness.

Morning coffee just has a better flavor in this season,

I add cinnamon for fun.

I sip slowly as I linger in the slanted light, wishing I were more carefree.

Finally I step out into the morning and see the trees have put on their annual fashion show.

They parade all around me in their vivid deep colors,

Those long, lean, graceful trees that understand the art of modeling better than any human,

I pass between them on my way,

Feeling small and insignificant in their midst;

My eyes noting how each tree characteristically paints the sky behind it with a unique individual flair.

Their swirling leaves dance on the side of the road as I travel on toward the mundane destinations of the day,

Those messy trees leave their fashion in a trail all over the earth’s floor,

like a teen-aged girl who has over-shopped.

I drink in the colors of lovely leaves,

Waving at me,

dancing in the wind as if they were next door neighbors calling out for me to stop and say hello.

The pumpkins at the curb market smile toothy smiles 

as I venture on down the road.

I resist the urge to stop and pick one for my front porch.

I know I would be late for nothing important;

So I move on.

With the magic of God’s creation surrounding me as I go,

I proclaim out loud to no one in particular that it is a shame I must continue with my boring usualness.

On such a day, it simply isn’t fair!

And it just doesn’t seem right not to stop a bit in the Fall and move a little slower.

I feel as if the whole world should just stand still for at least a day

And absorb the returning of this lovely season’s beauty.

It is the beginning of Fall

And I am completely in awe.