Today, I’m going to again borrow from my “poetry post” for something to blog about. Yesterday, I had the privilege of picking my two youngest grandsons up from their baseball camp. They are now twelve and ten years old and a delight to be with. The twelve-year-old no longer holds my hand and is taller than I by a few inches, and his dimpled brother still has those remarkable dimples. This is what I wrote when they were three and one.
MY HEART SOARS
My heart soars with the flight of birds,
winging their way to the rising sun,
the sight of its glow on their wings.
My heart soars with the song of the cardinal
gently penetrating the remains of my night’s sleep
and the answering call of his mate.
My heart soars with the rustle of leaves
dancing to the beat of a summer breeze
and the fragrance that fills the air.
My heart soars with the insistent tug
of my little grandson’s hand in mine
and the dimpled smile of his brother.
My heart soars with the promise of a new day
waiting to unfold its miracles,
showing me the miracle that is my life.
I chose today to rewrite this poem because my heart still soars to all these things. Each new day of life is still a miracle, and God is still in his Heaven. Even if things are not all right in the world, today they all right in mine.