From the moment I saw the little book in Garfield’s at York Beach, Maine,
I knew that it was special.
Maine in Four Seasons is a collection of poems by 20 poets.
Every once in a while I have thought about spending a year in Maine.
“Oh you don’t want to do that,” folks have said.
“It’s much too cold.”
“So different than when you visit in the summer.”
Autumn would be beautiful with the reds, oranges and yellows leaves.
Spring must be spectacular after the cold of winter.
I don’t know.
This Virginia gal might be too soft.
As I thumb through this little treasure today
I’m struck with how appropriate the poems are for one living anywhere.
When the Year Grows Old by Edna Vincent Millay
I cannot but remember
When the year grows old
How she disliked the cold?
Yes the year is drawing to a close, isn’t it?
One gal put up Christmas lights yesterday.
Me? No, I’ll wait awhile for that.
But I am aware that time marches on.
While my heart reflects on the simple kindness of the owner in Garfield’s
and I can almost taste an Erika cookie from Long Sands Market
I yearn to hold onto the shining moments
and in doing so to create more.
Yesterday I was surprised by a pair of cardinals in our backyard.
Seems like they took a fancy to the simple birdbath that stands beside our lilac bush.
A simple moment of great joy in the midst of an ordinary day.
Nothing pleased me more but to see them again this morning.
One season after another
and here we are surrounded by so much beauty.
Slow down enough to see the beauty.
Sit and rest awhile.
Yes, rock in that chair.
Time is meant to be invested. The moments quickly fly.
All of it is gift from the Father’s hands. All is grace.
Open my eyes to see your Glory all around me today.
Surrounded by acres and acres of diamonds.
We are all quite rich, I do believe.
Yes, quite rich indeed.