Martin Luther King Birthday
A blessed and warm Martin Luther King Day. I so remember when I was a tiny child picking up my brilliant Uncle with the Grandparents. I know it was the first time I had been to the train station. I was a reader and I read early. I remember distinctly needing to go to the restroom. I wandered into the restroom, and I read over the door, whites only. I thought to myself, what does that mean? I even questioned if that was the case where did the other people go? It was a deep feeling and just the beginning of many such experiences in the south.
I reared my children to never see color, but character. They still base their friendships on this premise.
Change
Bleached white and muted grey wood line,
covered with spots of unthawed snow.
Patches of green grass left from summer.
The smokey grey morning clouds hang heavy.
As the morning light breaks into shadows cast.
Winter has taken hold into arctic temperatures.
Still nature stays attentive to coming storms.
Sitting at my desk I am taken aback as one brave
bird dares to break the silence and sing of spring.
Copyrighted: CMM 2019 
Spring Equinox
Spring Equinox
Chatter of the first spring bird just outside
My open window…
The frost still rides on the quiet early evening
Lingering with a cool breeze…
Feelings of the season changing
Sweeps across my senses…
Copyrighted: 2019
Rain
It is the rain
Sweet sound
Gentle drops
Of morning
It is the rain
And it dismisses
The winter snow
The harsh ice
It is the rain
It is promise
Spring will be
Soon
copyrighted: 2019 CMM
Walked Among the Woods
I looked past the window pane and saw the gray bleak sky,
and felt the chill left in the house where all the quiet abides.
I’m not sure which bird I heard but off in distance it sings,
And I listen until the quiet resumes, then hear him once again.
Ice has passed and snow’s to come, blanketing frozen ground,
as I walked among the woods a breaking crunching sound
of frozen earth reminds me of the labored year has passed.
We look for good news to come, and hope that will surpass.
This hope was birthed among the timbers and quiet baby born,
yet the world goes on the same, even after Christmas morn.
Listen, as the year ends, Father times bids us farewell,
while the story remains anew among the promised tale
of birth and baby, poverty persist and still it overcomes,
rage and war and even death as life brought by a son.
Copyrighted: CMM 2008
Fallen Color
Seasons golden, rustic colors
shed from the aged old tree.
I lean in against the scaly bark
smell the age of autumn’s passing
I feel the leaves falling freely kaleidscope
around the warmth of the breeze.
I step gingerly at the base of roots grounded by time,
pigmented color, bark’s earthy smell.
Feeling the gifts of nurtured ground and holy soil
a symphony of change begin to swell.
I am brought to the awareness of time,
and the treasures it bares.
© CMM 2015
Bleached white and muted grey wood line
Covered with spots of unthawed snow,
Patches of green grass left from summer.
The smoky grey morning clouds hang heavy
As the morning light breaks into a shadow cast.
Winter has taken hold into arctic temperatures
And still nature stays attentive to coming storms.
Sitting at my desk I am taken aback as one brave
Bird dares to break the silence and sing of spring
Eagle and Child Inkling 