It’s Not Over!

December 18, 2014
Digital Camera
The house was quiet
And the trappings put away.
I was tired,
Yet not ready to end the day
And sleep.
The sounds of peace,
The sweet taste of refreshment,
The glow . . .
Of stars,
Of moon,
Of Spirit . . .
It’s only just begun!
By Martha L Shaw – © 12-25-2012


December 16, 2014

As I walked I saw the clouds

and frowned over coming rain.


I suddenly fell.

While I was down I noticed the flower in bloom.

How could I have missed it?

By Martha L Shaw – © 12-13-2014

Six Word Saturday

December 13, 2014

Breakfast in bed

Sonshine and rest


December Roses

December 12, 2014

The trees are bare of leaves

Yet strength remains

As branches await

The fresh blooms

Of the coming spring.

On my rosebush

Mostly  thorns remain

But it is still a rosebush just the same.

In my heart

I see the buds to come

And know their scent.

Faith is like

Roses in December.

By Martha L Shaw – © 12-12-2014


It Began Like Every Other Day . . . But Then

December 12, 2014


A simple peasant girl

Answered yes

To a question

Which surely shocked her

And the world was changed


Thanks, Mary.

By Martha L Shaw – ©12-23-2013

Baby Steps

December 11, 2014

I’m sitting at your feet.

Or I was,

But you took a couple steps and turned.

You looked back at me

Where I remained

And you seemed to beckon me,

But surely you cannot think that I . . .

I rolled over,

Crawled a little,

But not getting anywhere, I sat.

I twisted, turned, pushed,

Then shaking I got to my feet

Only to land sitting again.

Leaning my head back,

I saw your face.

I saw such love in it,

And tried again.

I wobbled to my feet and stared at them,

Uncertain what they’d do!

I dared not take my eyes off them for a moment,

But still I took a shaky step

Thinking I would surely fall.

I reached up

“Abba!” I cried

And you were right there

Lifting me up.

As you hold me close,

I cannot tell my tears of joy

From  yours.

By Martha L Shaw – © 12-11-2014


December 10, 2014

The hour is early

But sleep escapes me

So I rise.

The coffee brews

In my still dark house

Aroma of morning.

Glancing out the window

I see only the moon . . .

No stars of night

I hear the soft song

Of an early rising bird

A new day is dawning.

By Martha L Shaw – © 12-10-2014



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