Morning Mercies

I stepped in dog shit

First thing this morning

my feet clad in slippers

And the milk

had soured in the fridge

Tea splashed with cream leaves want

But here I am

on this tender morning

With a promise of new mercies

Are they enough to assuage old worries?

Mourning doves

are seated high in the dead oak

Like spectators in a pew

Patiently waiting, observing

Be like the birds of the air he said

How does that look

for a woman who can’t fly

Published by Judy

On the edge of Waterloo county, resting sedately on knoll, is an old stone house looking out towards the Grand River. This stone house and farm has been in my husband's family for years. We have been graced to call this place home for the last thirty years. Our best crop has been our four children. After years of immersing myself in raising and educating our family, the proverbial nest has slowing been emptying, opening up space for me to fill with other pursuits. Both writing and photography have been knit into my everyday living since I was very young. Sharing them is both a bit of a dream and a nightmare. But living small and in fear shrivels up a life. My thoughts are musings on God, aging, family, and simply living. My shelves are lined with books, my baskets are brimming with skeins of yarn, my closet shelves are stacked with apparel, my cellar shelves are chock full of home canning - all testaments to my inclinations. Our journeys are not solitary affairs. As I share bits of my journey with you, I hope you will be enticed to look more closely, listen more attentively, and live with abandon. May God's peace rest on your journey. Judy Mae Naomi

2 thoughts on “Morning Mercies”

  1. Norma Martin says:

    I like it!
    Well written!

    1. Judy says:

      Thanks! 🙂

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