among the prickly leaf…
The labored Mother sighs
as birthing finds relief…
Then nature joins a chorus,
among the star they sing…
Humanity realized His birth
of the Resurrection King…
He came among the world
in quiet winter’s rest…
Chickadee without notice
continues to make his nest…
Copyrighted: CMM 2003
I have climbed to a place I did not choose.
I have felt the wind of discourse
The cold breeze of season’s change
Hard places alone into heights of loss
The view is one of escalating challenges
There is no end to the horizon
There is no definition to the time.
© Christine McNeill-Matteson
I sit before you all that I have,
It isn’t the coffee that is the gift,
It is the importance,
I sit before you and we drink,
Smelling the coffee,
Pour into the gift,
Of you and me,
I sit before you.
© CMM 2013
cools the sun’s luncheon rays.
Crossed in contemplation knees
are the enchanted Shakespeare days.
Tempered heat of springtime lawn
varid carpet lays beneath.
Lurching words without alarm,
bid from metamorphous sleep.
Anthony and Cleopatra fight,
as sonnets woo the lady’s fare.
Henry the IV comes from the night,
poets and lovers, a wispy pair.
The yeoman genius now buried in tomb,
leaves with the youth a place to learn.
While even when he left the room,
all other works are now discerned.