Prairie Wind Writing Centre

A hole in one

I love a hole in one.

That delightful unexpected

rare hole in one.

I love a long putt

when gravity defies the odds.

Sinks the one I think I have missed.

I love the green

that lies like carpet

waiting for my brilliant putt.

I golf through life

aiming for a hole in one,

wanting success with little effort.

It takes a driver,

one focused swing

for those long fairways.

It takes a wedge

to chip my ball

close to the flag.

It takes a putter

for that last little nudge

before success.

So it goes in life.

One club won’t do it all.

Every stroke counts.

Avoid the out of bounds.

Be cautious in the rough.

Play the game fairly.

Sarah Jane Pennington              

If I moved in the world

If I moved in the world

with the joy of a child,

the kindness of a monk,

the gentleness of a falling leaf,

how would I walk?

What would I see?

How would I live this day?

It would matter not

the pace of passersby,

the clutter of storefront windows,

the noise of nothing talk.

I would stand in the busyness,

grounded in love

and smile.

When I break bread

I would give thanks

with every morsel to

the farmer who grew the wheat.

The miller who ground the grain,

The baker who shaped the bun,

The driver who drove the dolly.

I would notice the tulips

in colors painted by God,

asking me to remember Easter.

I would notice the sun streaming

onto gravestones of those I loved

asking me to remember

the gifts that are mine from them.

I would sit quietly

on an old tree stump,

throwing peanuts

onto the forest bed

and laugh

as the squirrels scurry

without so much as a bow of gratitude.

I would walk slowly

with a lightness to my step.

I would feel the earth

rise up to greet me.

I would meander

like a gentle stream

through a summer’s meadow.

If you come with tears,

I would listen.

If you come with pride,

I would listen.

If you come with anger,

I would listen.

I vow to listen.

My voice will be gentle.

Without words

you will know that I care.

You will see me strain

to understand you –

To know the you, you are.

I would sit in stillness

quieting the chatter between my ears.

I would sit in solitude

knowing in aloneness,

the “I” that is “We”.

I would sit in silence

hearing the joy of breathing.

Sarah Jane Pennington

The first snow

The first snow

fell softly,

one flake at a time,

so quietly

even the leaves

stopped whispering.

By daybreak,

the postcard was painted.

I want to utter every word,

think every thought

as gently as the brush

that stroked this winter canvas.

I want the landscape

of my life

to be quiet

and beautiful.

Sarah Jane Pennington

Tomorrow: Poems will be posted from Ronna’s repertoire of amusing common life situations.