Water Into Wine

Grey skies are forming
Uncharted course approaching.
Plans disturbed, treasure guarded,
Wary of new danger brewing.
Rain is dripping down,
Dripping down
But you turned water into wine.

Grey skies are coming
Tossing the horizon.
Sirens awaken, wailing for safety,
Havens flooding, ships leaving.
Tides are growing high,
Growing high
But you turned water into wine.

Grey skies are falling
Losing grip on what remains.
Running through the drops,
Hopes frail and foundations failing.
Rain is pounding hard,
Pounding hard
But you turned water into wine.

Grey skies are changing
New seas for sailing.
Currents carrying off dreams,
Rolling down the hill.
Tides are drifting on,
Drifting on
But you turned water into wine.

Intrigue

They had two faces, those places.

The graveyard with its cold, bleak headstones. Lined straight in perfect rows. Granite pinpointing where memories ended. Green grass rolling away, waiting to swallow up more dead dreams.  

The cemetery with stones vying for attention. Reaching high, proclaiming the owners greatness or set low, bearing an ordinary tale. Its craftsmanship the show of their family’s life. Lives condensed into a handful of letters. Stories and tales of old life held captive by its headstones.

The graveyard and the cemetery. So many lives returned to where they’re from. Waiting, for their glory or their doom.  

5.31 Growing Up

“No turn on red” was the first sentence I ever read. I think I read it ten times that day, I was so excited. Grandma had to write the sentence out for me so I could prove it to her.

Then I got to reading about the cat in the hat, and the swan that played the trumpet, and the four sisters who grew into fine little women.

Now I’m reading about red lights as I drive and what I will need to know to teach others how to read those books I did. Just a little strange isn’t it? 

5.30 Villagers

He grew up here, learning with our families. The one who remembered everything he learned. With a gentle word he responded to those he came in contact with.

He knew the right thing to do. He was the one mothers applauded. The one who didn’t seem to be faint of heart.

But he was acquainted with sorrow. Often turned away and misunderstood. Didn’t have the face to amount to much, the village people said.

He was the serious one. Not concerning himself about his own situation. Always worrying about something, carrying weight on his shoulders.

He turned water into wine. 

5.29 The End

Remember when we closed our books with a final thump? When we rushed to get them out of the kitchen and into storage? When we asked Mom what we were doing to celebrate?

Remember when we ran on empty playgrounds because the neighbors were still in school? When we got together to trade skills to better understand our work?

Remember when we watched the big kids celebrate the end?  When we were handed certificates and collected our best works?

Remember when we always asked each other when their last day of school was? Now it’s here, and here it stops.

5.28 Precious Treasure

Playfully, they ducked inside a crippled barn to escape the rain that frowned down upon them.

 “Stop it,” she giggled, as he reached for her. “Did you hear that? There’s something here.”

They tip-toed in the direction of the sound, both wide-eyed for movements.  The sound came again and he pulled the lid off one of the piled up boxes.  Bright eyes and chubby cheeks stared back at them.

“A baby? Here?” Their questions echoed.

She lifted her out and cradled her.

 “I wish there was some way we could take care of her,” she sighed.

“Would you marry me?” 

5.27 Variable

We’re a rag-taggle bunch. Some of us are well dressed and know their stuff. Most of us walk along, daily aware of the battle we face. We’re all from different places of the journey. Variation brings us together somehow, but it’s also torn us apart. We’ve seen other warriors affections’ vary, challenging part of our laws.

Our orders have never varied, we fight for the Son. But watch, the Enemy can come from any side--variability is his game. Weakened hearts or tired speech, ever a new battle raging at us.

But there’s no letting up. We’ve enlisted for life.

5.26 Everyday Reminder

There’s something familiar about slipping on a pair of ballet slippers. Maybe it’s the way they hug your feet, bending back and forth around your toes. Or the way the elastics snap back around your ankle, securing your foot. Or maybe it’s because I’ve always felt the comfort of them, with the dance floor underneath me. Unlike its hard sister that wears out ones toes, they make my movements softer and relaxed.  I can turn an extra time around and my steps aren’t heard as I move across the floor. 

Or maybe they’re the reminder of my childhood ballet dreams. 

5.25 Record of Memories

Spinning 'round and 'round
Crooning out the same tune.
Each story, each song,
Every detail know.
Some parts skip, some parts stick.
Sweet they were, played again and again.
Scratched and worn, melodies of happy times. Yet some others linger Bringing frowns to the thinker,  The needle moved on to a new song, With a happy melody, a happy story. The listener leans back and thinks, Excited they were, that day long ago. As the story unfold again in front of her, The song continues. As the needle pierces, her thoughts were triggered To think of those days long ago. The favorites are stored near by the player, Easily able to be taken out and listened to. Each one known as thoroughly as the next, Sweet melodies and cool ones, Sorrowful ones and short songs. All kept nearby, played till they're scratched. Spinning 'round and 'round, never to be forgotten. 

5.24 Lost

 The little yellow house waited far back in the distance. With their sandy feet and jingling pockets all the island was theirs. There were rides to experience, performers to watch, endless beaches to explore, and treats to be tasted. Where to start first was the only dilemma.

Chaining their hands together, they ran through the sand, hopped anxiously in lines, and looked in wide eyed wonder.

As the sun grew hot they went for their desserts, cool treats piled high in its cone. The littlest one watched incredulously as his iced treasure slipped down and pooled together on the ground.

5.23 Happy Feet

All her worn shoes lined the high shelf, out of reach of the curious little ladies.

The small, tattered ballet slippers that gave her her first dancing memories began the collection. The sets of pointe shoes stood beside it. Proving her feet and her determination were strong enough to continue. The tap shoes came next, loud and quick, rhythms making its way into any scene.

The ballroom shoes hung on the end, bought while preparing for that special day.

The little ladies waited patiently underneath for her to come and take each down so they could hear their teacher’s story. 

5.22 Dressing Up

Fabric filled the air with colors as they tumbled from the trunk. Hands pawed through their new found treasures. Eyes peered into the trunk, seeing what else might catch their eye. Long lengths were wrapped around shoulders, and hats squished on top of heads. One piece was turned this way and that, pairs of eyes staring inquisitively.

"That's a funny..." a voice trailed. It was tossed aside, given up on.

"Hey, I wanted that one!" a voice grabbed, but it was already possessed by another.

The attic door turned open and Grandmother filled the opening, "What are you children doing?"

5.21 A Change of Scene

Is it the fear of standing and speaking, or the thought of writing something so important that makes my stomach flip? I can easily picture the blackness that’s the audience swallowing the space in front of me. Yes, I’ve stood in front of it many times, but this time it’s to be different. This time only my tongue makes movements, my feet are still.

I look back at the pages in front of me. Typed words that have been there for days and little penciled words farther down. So much weight on this speech for our last day of childhood. 

5.20 Manhattan Jungle

It was nothing like I had ever seen.  I stood on the sidewalk staring at the whirlwind in front of me. I’d never seen so many people gathered in one place. All of them appeared on a mission, not making eye contact and hurrying along. The yellow cabs lined the sidewalk beeping, anxious to make their way through. On the buildings lights and signs flashed everywhere.

Even stepping into the crosswalk proved dangerous. The last time I was that scared while moving was when the neighbor’s dog chased us across the cornfield.

Whoever said Manhattan was a jungle was underestimating.  

5.19 All Business

The clock was ticking and no one had showed up yet. The executive and his assistant sat in the meeting room – waiting.

                “Everyone clocked in this morning, sir. I don’t know why they aren’t here,” the assistant reasoned.

                “They must be waiting on Jessica. Why isn’t she here?” The executive got up and went to the front of the office.

                “The front desk shouldn’t be left empty,” he grumbled.

                There was a woman standing there looking all business, but she also looked lost.

                “Can I help you?” he asked.

                She turned and held out her hand, “I’m the fill in.”

5.18 Rhapsody in Green

It slithered through the crowd, making its way towards its intended target. Its drilling, green eyes watched her as she took in the scene, sitting with her friends. It couldn’t help smiling—knowing what was to come. 

How could he help it? When he got there how could she help it? The event wasn’t for her, as it well should be. He knew what quick work tonight would be. A small drop, and perhaps one pinch of eavesdropping, and she would be his. Fully taken over by the desire that this should have been hers. 

It raised its ugly head. 

5.17 Young Together

We were young together. Growing up on shores of green. Chasing rainbows and twirling in the rain. Laughing through the summers and standing under twinkling stars.

Bonfires late at night and early morning chats. Waving as we drove new roads, tassels swinging as we saw achievements.  

Happy days and anxious ones, we did them all together.

Standing by each other’s side. Hands joined open new doors. New lives added, growing, growing.

Filling boxes, watching goodbyes. Hiding keepsakes away, we saw it all go by.

The days now old, minds only sharp. Bodies tired but remember—when we were young together. 

5.16 God Made Every Drop of Water

The bold rain was gallant. 

Rushing to the unreached, it threw itself down. 

The gentle rain was relaxed. 

Happy with its lot, it pattered rhythmically down.

The fast rain was competing. 

It twisted and plunged, racing to the earth.

The thin rain was nervous. 

It came steadily, but held onto fears as it came.

The quiet rain was peaceful. 

It fell and pooled gracefully down below.

The thick rain was angry. 

It beat the rooftops, demanding attention.

The baby rain was new. 

It tried out different ways to send itself down to earth. 

Mimicking all the triumphs it saw before.  

5.15 Introduction

The floors were covered with dust; my foot prints echoed my movements. The crates that I had sent on ahead waited for attention on the steps outside. Walking lightly, I ran my fingertips across what would be my desk. Benches lined the floor and I counted the spaces. The building had stood empty for too long.

From what I had seen of the town, that wasn’t a good thing. I came because I needed a change. A change was coming, for me and for them.

It was the wild, wild west alright and quite the school year it would be.

5.14 Days of Old

I remember the day we planted flowers in the yard. 

Armed with shovels and watering cans, the flowers lay surrendered on the patio. Digging holes in the chunky dirt, we picked flowers to plant. Sticking stems into the ground, we pushed fistfuls of dirt around it, seeing if it would stand up. The first ones stayed standing so of course we were going to try again. Digging and planting was a new adventure, and we did it with vengeance.

When my mom came to get me, she must have wondered who let us plant cut flowers in your front lawn.

5.13 A Life Long Pursuit

He stared blankly at the shelves in front of him. Bindings and color swirled before his eyes. How he ever was to choose among them he did not know.

Books of wisdom and humor. History and instruction. Ledgers of dates and itineraries. Albums of memories and pictures. Family volumes lined the walls. Dust sprinkled the shelves, publishing their forgotten state. Years of searching and bargaining produced the sights before him. Research and traveling brought the rectangular evidence before him.

The corners of the room were piled high with empty boxes; and he was only allowed to fill one of them.

5.12 On the Shuttle to Nowheresville

“Really, Dad?”

We have this tradition of reading a story to our kids before bed. My wife had the brilliant idea of reading our favorite childhood stories tonight. Leave it to my nine year old to criticize it.

“It’s from twenty years ago, Joe. It won’t be all action packed like the books that are written nowadays,” I tried defending it.

Joey flicked open the cover, and began pointing things out. “They’re hardly explanatory sentences; do they think we’re five?”

“You’ve liked space stories before.”

“On the Shuttle to Nowheresville? They really couldn’t think of a better place to go?”

5.11 Familiar Comforts

"Well, that was an adventure. Or experiment—as they determined to call it. I’m supposed to write an article on my experience so I’ll bounce thoughts off you first.

It worked, I’ll tell you that. But boy, am I glad to flick a light switch and throw dinner in the microwave. I had to bite my tongue when they were talking about 'current events.'

There were some good things, I guess. You can stay fit pretty well with all that work they do and their manners are impeccable.

1857 could be nice, but I sure wouldn't want to live there."  

5.10 Silence

They sat in silence. Heavy, clinging, silence. Watching straight ahead, not knowing what will come next. They press close against each other, not daring anything. Clattering and the rhythm of feet are heard outside their hideaway. Fear hangs thick in the air.

One of them buries her head deep. This is not the way it was meant to be, they all know. Destruction has already come to neighbors, family. Symbols were made for display. All by one man's hand. 

Their star was made to wear with pride, not terror.

Words only make it more dangerous. So, they sit in silence.  

5.9 A New Season

Len grabbed thin air again. "Come on, sheep," he growled, tired of playing games.

The shears lay waiting, ready to give the sheep a new look for the season. The sheep baaed - he thought he was talking - and yielded himself over. His black wool fell off in streaks, a boy scooped it up and tucked it into burlap bags.

When the master came to visit, he asked, "What do we have this time?"

"Three bags full, sir. Two for you and the dame--" the sheep interrupted as Len finished, "and one for the little boy who lives down the lane."

5.8 Coming Alive

The bell rings, the day begins. My twenty-four kids come blustering in. My smile greets them, but not all of them have smile greetings, too. 

They take out their books, I pull out mine. Filled with pencil, I get to re-live my favorite stories.  Today it’s the runt pig, and the spider that spells.  I love when they talk with me about the story. When their parents tell me what the book does with them at home.

The bell rings, the day done. One girl stays behind while her mother comes, late.

She skips to meet her, “Salutations, Mommy!” 

5.7 A Near Life Experience

We were so excited when we learned you were coming. The smiles never left our faces. Feet skipped around the house. Little voices asked about you all the time. We had to tell them it wasn’t time for you to come yet. We had eager helpers while we got ready, excited to meet you, wanting you.  

That day came, and something went wrong. Monitors beeping, secretive whispering, we looked at each other, fear behind our eyes. Hands clasped, we pleaded for you, to have you home with us.

But God wanted you instead.

You almost had the chance to live.

5.6 Story of a Tree

I was a sapling standing tall. I grew strong above my brothers. Hard oak, extending branches. Broad through the center, fullness of covering above. Proud the family was of me, destined to stay tall. To be great among the forest.

Then they came. Knocked me down and stripped my glory. Hauling me across my forest, I was rolled away. Split in center, fashioned in two, face to the earth. Crowd gathered, surrounding me. Man nailed down, then lifted up. Bearing all the world, He clung to what was my branches. Father turned away.

Cursed was he, who hung on me.

5.5 Could Have Been

Dear Elizabeth,

                As you know, today was the day. I’d been counting down for weeks now, I’m sure you’re tired of reading about my anticipation. Grandmother and I boarded the train without any trouble. However, something lay on the tracks (so the conductor told us) and the train had to stop for a while. Of course, we were late.

The hall had the looks of having been beautiful; it was practically over by the time we got there.  To think we were so close to experience a luncheon of a life time, all because of those silly trains.  

Love, Letty

5.4 Read On

“’In the beginning, God created the heavens, and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep,’” The voice paused.

“Read on,” the other gentleman urged.

The owner of the voice continued, before pausing again. “’And there was evening and there was morning, the second day.’ What is it, sir?”

The other gentleman didn’t move, “Read on.”

The owner of the voice sighed, but continued, “’Bearing fruit each according to its kind. And God saw that it was good.’”

“Ah,” the other gentleman’s voice stopped him, “With God, it’s always good.”

5.3 The Past

“I want that one.”

“No, honey.”

“But Mommy, I like that one.”

“You can find another one you like."

Her daughter’s lip poked out and her shoulders slummed, but she obeyed and began to look for something else.

She did not want her daughter to own anything like it. Was it because it stirred up bitter memories? Memories she reburied every year. Or that the shape of it reminded her of the brokenness she endured? Or the pain that she had caused? Pain that had pierced long.

No. She did not want her daughter to be what she had been.   

5.2 Opening Night

It was the first time she was ever doing it on her own. The curtain drew back and the show began without any trouble. Kate breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was in its place, prop management wasn’t so bad. Then something went wrong. Kate could see the star’s eyes darting around, looking. Excuses were made on stage so the star could leave. There was already a flurry backstage but the star’s temper already escaped her. 

          “Where is it?” she shrieked, as loudly as was appropriate for the wings. 

           Kate pulled off her shoe and handed it to her, “Improvise!” 

5.1 The Fair

The May Fair was always a favorite in his family. This year, their little one was to inherit the joy, too. Ready to go and eager to see the animals, they had to hold tightly to her hand. Pointing out the different booths and listening to the vendors bartering, the familiar whirlwind was comforting. But amidst the swirl of ribbons and flowers, their little girl’s hand slipped away. A horrified chill slipped down them when they realized. Running back over used paths, they looked everywhere. The chill deepening, they began to look new places. They saw her, with the ponies.