Pot Pies, Mud Pies and Me

It was summer in the mountains, Daisies, bees and poison ivy surrounding The little creek where my feet swung down, Swaying gently over the trickling water… Betraying the heat with its coolness, Its calm – serene like the world where I came from, A world of laughter, beauty and grace… Where granny worked and prayed, Where mama didn’t see any shame in repenting For sins that were taken away by the Savior, The grace that remained when He went to heaven To await the day when we would come to stay With Him, in paradise… in praise, in eternity Fading into the summer praises, the lupines In colors of elaborate violet – dusty rose delphiniums, Imperial hues of breathless roses, blushing beauties Brilliant and bright, hoping for the moment when rain Bruises the petals and suggests to them a joy Far beyond the miracles invading breathless whispers, Rainfall moments and sun, so alive it feels nearly timeless, Blessing the leaves, silently fawning – mysteries While all the world searches for the wonders of these Gracious colors, admiring – honoring the beautiful, My little cousin eating pies I created With two chubby hands, pies two times the size Of the pot pie pans that taught me the meaning of Recycling… they were leftover trinkets from a mother Who believed in me, she’d found her reason But me … I was only happy to know the freedom Creating mud pies on the banks of a creek that treated Me like the wish for giggles, the craving for fanciful Dreams who walk away from the heart Misty eyed and prayerful, erasing the lost Hopes, replacing them with promises For a coloring book life… made from joy and hope, Kindness that fills up the soul, a wildness That comes from being that little girl who grows Cousins from the mud pies she baked in the sun, Urging them to gorge themselves with… And, they still loved her, despite her baking skills!