Saturday, November 22, 2014

Lest We Forget--The Poppy--By Jane Richer--Canada

Lest We Forget--The Poppy

In Flander's field where courageous soldiers lie below
there I am planted besides the crosses row by row.
To forever be a reminder of the brave ones that died,
my face is sad; the darkest black as you look inside.

I wear a red velvet gown; to remind you of the blood that was shed,
I hear every cry and feel the tears that are dropped upon my head.
I am there as a reminder; to those families of brave ones gone,
that their sacrifice; led to freedom and a brand new dawn!

Jane Richer is a poet and writer who lives in Alberta, Canada. She is published online and in print. She loves to poke fun at herself and rather likes to write tongue-in-cheek poetry but she will dabble in all kinds of genres to widen her creative nature. She loves to 'sister'- (write a complimentary poem) and feels that is the greatest form of acknowledgment and respect in expression for another poet's talent.

Passage from The Gift of You, The Gift of Me--By Nila J. Webster--United States

Passage from The Gift of You, The Gift of Me

Thank you for life
And death
And life again

For the seed of hope
Born of each sad end

November is my beloved mother's birth month, and I know she always held close the sacred gift of hope, no matter what.

Nila J. Webster has been writing since a young age, thanks to the encouragement and support of her beloved mother, poet jani johe webster. In the last six months, Nila has donated over 23,000 picture books in her mother's honor, with more to come. If anyone knows of schools or hospitals that would like to receive a picture book donation, please let her know at

Friday, November 21, 2014

"Stepping Stones"--By Colan Hiatt--United States

"Stepping Stones"

Sometimes our plotted course in life
Is altered by a sudden turn
The days routine, must then give way
A new approach, we have to learn

It's never pleasant at the time
We could permit despair to reign
But a greater burden then we'd know
Just added stress, and increased pain

A better way it seems to me
Just use the fragments that abide
To buoy us to a higher plane
The issue then, is thrust aside

Life doesn't always give it's best
Even though so hard we try
A learning process can be found
Amid a task that would defy

So take courage when turmoil prevails
Remember that you're not alone
When mountains loom across our way
just let them be a "Stepping Stone"

Colan Hiatt resides in Mt. Airy, NC. with his wife. A retired electronic technician, he has been writing for several years. Most all the poetry, is derived from observing "down-to-earth" events that occur around us. A personal "mini-story" is often associated with the majority of compositions. Usually a metaphor is found with spiritual implications that portray God as the ultimate solution to life's problems. To direct the reader to this "Source", is the desired goal.

A Fruitful Life--By Barbara Siekierski--United States

A Fruitful Life

I am with you…

Planted firmly
on the ground,
you will take root
and produce many
good things.
You will sprout
and receive my light.
You will withstand
every tribulation.

My love will
carry you…

Barbara Siekierski is a writer from Swarthmore, PA.

Thursday, November 20, 2014

Tanka--By Shloka Shankar--India

a blue sky
bursts into silence...
these aches
feel so familiar now
as I let them go

paint summer hues...
the labyrinthine
wanderings of my heart
in this wilderness

an empty nest
dangles from the branch...
still hoping
to revive what we had
so many moons ago

Shloka Shankar resides in India, and works as a freelance writer. A contributing poet in over half a dozen anthologies such as The Dance of the Peacock, Traversal of Lines, Family Matters, Emanations IV, and Rainbow Hues, among others, Shloka has also seen her poems published in journals like Ekphrasis, Writers Asylum, The Literary Yard, Urban Confustions, Wordweavers, Verse Wrights, Miracle-ezine, and Cafe Dissensus.

Sister--By David Fox--United States


There's a special bond between us
It's something no one else can take
For whomever gets between us
This bond shall never break.
It's like we've signed a contract,
In which the terms are "For Life":
To be there for your sibling
In good times and in strife.
Whatever shall become of us,
Whether it be famine, fortune, fame,
You'll always be my sister
And I'll love you just the same.

David has been published most recently in Smile, Poet's Digest, The Pink Chameleon, Creative Inspirations, Pancakes in Heaven, The Shine Journal, The Jokester, Weekly Avocet, Aphelion, Poet’s Expresso and Forte Green Literary Review. He publishes and edits The Poet's Art, a print journal that accepts family-friendly poetry.  Contact him at for more information.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Whispers Within--By Rick Parise--United States

Whispers Within

I am the spirit of satin stardust
and the antiquities of golden memories alive
I call to you from  the rising warmth of the sun
and greet you in the misty morning light
I am the steady and rolling drum beat
echoing from the jagged heights above
I am the mysterious curves of the raging waters'
and the freedom birds of love
I rise above the white summer clouds
in lilting songs of grace
and roam with the western tail-winds
to take you home again

I am a Spirit of our gracious Lord God Almighty

of love, hope and faith
I have come to tell

Rick Parise, known as “A Pondering Poet”, is from the beautiful land of Salem, Oregon.  The main focus of his poetry is to take the reader to a meaningful, personal time in their lives, to a place where spirit's are touched and memories unwind. He hopes you enjoy his work. To Contact Rick please email him at

Marley's Breakfast--By Elizabeth Howard--United States

Marley's Breakfast

Marley awakens while it's still dark,
her tummy grumbling with hunger.
Her mother who works the night shift
at the diner will not be home until
after Marley and Billy have gone
to school. She finds a little cornmeal
in the bin, mixes it with water, cooks it,
and gives it to Billy who gobbles it up.
She licks the spoon and puts it in the sink.
They do not need to dress. They are
wearing the only clothes they have.
Marley takes Billy's hand, and they walk
to school. Her first class is English,
but she does not hear the teacher.
She only hears the grumbling in her tummy

Elizabeth Howard lives in Crossville, Tennessee. She writes poetry and fiction. Her poems have appeared in Comstock Review, Big Muddy, Appalachian Heritage, Cold Mountain Review, Poem, Still, Mobius, Now & Then, Slant, and other journals.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

New Delhi Railroad Station--By Isha Wagner--New Zealand

New Delhi Railroad Station

Hot, tired, dusty, out of sync
to the station staggering luggage
Swarms of beings standing, bending, lying
Dark beautiful faces with eyes that bind
Making you think of God
And his strange creation.
Breathing, sheer force of life, exhaling
Stinking smells, flower perfume mingling
Drifting, mouths gabbling unknown languages
Floating the air, shouts, whispers
Stares, trains in, trains out
Monks shaven heads, tranquil looks
Turbans, beards abound
Babies who choke you with emotion
Their innocence lit so bright

My head hurts, my throat hurts
I want to see it as a movie
Lights, camera, action
But the Director makes no cuts
I am a bit player.

Isha Wagner is a New Zealand poet. She has resided in many countries including Iceland, Libya, India, and Australia.  She read some of her work at the VIII International Poetry Festival held in Granada, Nicaragua, in February 2012. She has had three collections of poetry published.

Vestige--By Cristine A. Gruber--United States


He didn’t have much
in the way of mementos,
a bible that belonged
to his mama, a tobacco tin
that his daddy had used.

There were a few gifts
from his girls over the years,
and more recently, keepsakes
from the grandchildren too.
He kept these things,

but rarely looked at them.
But once each autumn,
when the earth gleamed golden
for a time, just before turning
barren for yet another winter,

he would retrieve the small box
from the back of his closet, sit
for a spell, and re-read each card,
one by one, voicing each word,
reliving every moment.

Cristine A. Gruber, a Southern California native, is a registered caregiver as well as a widely-published poet. Her work has been featured in numerous magazines, including: North American Review, Writer’s Digest, California Quarterly, The Homestead Review, Iodine Poetry Journal, The Penwood Review, The Poet’s Haven, Red River Review, The Tule Review, Wilderness House Literary Review, and The Write Place at the Write Time. Her first full-length collection of poetry, Lifeline, is available from More of Cristine's work can be found at

Monday, November 17, 2014

The Great Depression--By Elizabeth Kral--United States

The Great Depression
(In memory of my mother, born 1919)

The Great Depression
made quite an impression
on Mom and her foods of choice.

Chicken was prized,
beans despised,
and she loved all cakes and pies.

We took her out.
A special treat,
dinner at a restaurant down the street.

But the Great Depression
made such an impression,       
she would not order a platter.

She opted instead
for the basket of bread,
with a bowl of bean and ham chowder.

Elizabeth Kral is retired and resides with her husband in Surprise, Arizona. Local memberships include the Arizona West Valley Writers Workshop and the Arizona West Valley Writers Critique Group. Elizabeth and her husband enjoy spending summers in Colorado, and she is a member there of the Steamboat Springs Writer’s Workshop.

Autumn--By Sandra Stefanowich--Canada


listening as Autumn's voice takes hold
aimlessly roaming among the red, green and gold

as daylight slowly falls from the sky
I'm content to watch the pastel clouds pass me by

holding the remnants of yesterday in my hand
I let them go and wonder where they might land

a bonfire smolders, lingering in the air as memories burn
where this soul longs to be and one day return

flames break through the landscape setting it afire
to not see this vision end is my deep desire

my eyes far away in a silent moment of thought
in awe of the beauty of this world I'm caught

in the twilight of fall the love of a season again found
captivated by its presence and to it forever bound

Born in Toronto, Ontario, Sandra is a self taught writer. She has been writing off and on since an early age. Most of her writing revolves around what she sees in everyday life, nature and her concerns about mankind. She enjoys reading, writing, hiking, animals and photography.

Sunday, November 16, 2014

Tanka--By ayaz daryl nielsen--United States

autumn’s rose petals
gently falling
may my years pass
with such poise
and such grace

ayaz daryl nielsen is a husband, father, veteran, x-roughneck (as on oil rigs)/hospice nurse, editor of bear creek haiku (25+ years/120+ issues), homes include Lilliput Review, Jellyfish Whispers, Shamrock, and! (translates as joie de vivre)

Yesterday’s Echo--By Janet Vick--United States

Yesterday’s Echo

The yesterdays echoed with anger’s bite
while sorrow’s seam unraveled, lost the fight.
Regrets were catalogued, redeemed as lost
and dreams contained within self-floating spheres
because reality was smeared in fears
as time evaporated all it cost.

The yesterdays echoed with anger’s bite
while sorrow’s seam unraveled, lost the fight
but tiny kisses from the memories
brought hope tomorrow’s walk would echo free.
Regrets were catalogued, redeemed as lost
as time evaporated all it cost.
The yesterdays echoed with anger’s bite
while sorrow’s seam unraveled, lost the fight.

Janet lives in rural Suffolk, Virginia with her husband, Randy. She loves the fresh air and space of country living. She works as a Registered Nurse in surgery. She is a mother of one and grandmother of two.

Saturday, November 15, 2014

Memories of Summer Rambles--By Marianne Szlyk--United States

Memories of Summer Rambles

A girl of the last century
along the bike path,
past the goldenrod
the spiky chicory,
and Queen Anne’s lace.

With a brick red anthology in her book bag,
she wishes she lived among the Romantics
walking twenty miles or more
through the car-free countryside.

Waiting for a walk light
in August’s brittle brilliance,
she remembers a minor poem
that her grandmother still recites from memory,
having learned it
by a river
brick-red with dye
at the beginning of the last century.

Every so often Marianne Szlyk thinks about taking a walking tour in England, but for now she is happy to explore the Washington, DC area. She recently published her first chapbook, Listening to Electric Cambodia, Looking Up at Trees of Heaven, at Kind of a Hurricane Press: Individual poems have appeared in print and online, most recently in Poppy Road Review, Flutter Poetry Journal, The Greensilk Journal, bird's thumb, The Blue Hour Literary Anthology Volume 3, and Literature Today. She also edits The Song Is..., a journal of poetry inspired by music.

Poet of the Month--Sara Kendrick


By Sara Kendrick

The trip to church on Sunday wasn't long
Down dry dusty country roads closer roamed
Hearts did rejoice when singing love's sweet song
Precious memories now deeply intoned

A home filled to the brim with kith and kin
No evidence of the grief she suffered
When in her youth tales of such loss did spin
By age of twenty-five her life crumbled

Joys of a young bride with husband beside
Darling daughters three in tow~gone~from life
Oh, life’s issues such hard brazen blows inside
No longer was she a mother and wife

Her faith in a loving God never failed
She had strength of character which prevailed 

I have been doing some research about my biological family
I found that my father's mother was married in her youth
and had three daughters which all died as did her husband..
She married my grandfather and then had four sons which
all lived. She never gave up her faith through it all. What strength.


From the editor--It is a privilege to announce that Sara Kendrick is November’s Poet of the Month.  She is a talented writer that has been published in a variety of venues.  Readers at Whispers relate to her heartfelt poetry.  Sara regularly leaves thoughtful comments which others appreciate.  She has collaborated with other writers on poems that have been featured at Whispers and has brought new writers to our online journal.  It is a pleasure to present Sara with this honor!

Thoughts on “Strength”--Sara sets the tone of the poem in the first two lines which are rich in imagery.  Based on a true story, this poem has a powerful impact.  We all have losses and challenges.  It’s what we do with them that counts in life.  Sara portrays a woman of amazing courage--“No evidence of the grief she suffered.”  This poem conveys a real hero, one that was a light despite all she suffered.  This is a wonderful piece with a timeless message.

Congratulations and thank you Sara!  I appreciate all you do and have done for Whispers.


Karen O’Leary, Editor

Blinded by the Speed of Life--By Joe Flach--United States

Blinded by the Speed of Life

I never took the time to speak my love
I never told him what I was thinking of
I never thanked him for all he had done
I never said I was proud to be his son

I always waited for the perfect time
I always kept those thoughts inside my mind
I always choked on the words when in his sight
I always said I would, in bed at night

But, I was blinded by the speed of life
Now, on angel’s wings he’s taken flight
To have shared his world, I feel delight
I was blinded by the speed of life

And, now it’s too late, I missed my chance
I wasn’t there for his final dance
He never heard me say what I had to say
Now, I miss my father, every day

I was blinded by the speed of life
Now, on angel’s wings he’s taken flight
To have shared his world, I feel delight
I was blinded by the speed of life

Joe Flach is an amateur poet living in Gig Harbor, WA. Joe has been writing poetry, short stories and song lyrics his entire life but has only recently found the courage to share some of his work with others through internet websites and his own Poetry Facebook Page – “Poems, Lyrics and Stuff by an Average Joe”. As a professional consultant working in the fields of crisis management and disaster recovery, Joe uses has writing as a form of stress release and an opportunity to expand his horizons. Joe is a father of four children who he often relies on as a source for inspiration.

Friday, November 14, 2014

To What We Lost--By Jack Horne--England

To What We Lost

As you leave,
I pass you a poppy
in remembrance of our love,
bloody and battered.
It died on life's battlefield,
another casualty,
another number.
Wear your poppy with pride
and remember me.

Jack Horne enjoys reading and writing poetry.

Dayspring--By Lisa DeVinney--United States


Dawn quietly seeps through the porous fog,
On this, a shrouded, frosty, autumn morn.
The veil begins to lift, the ground to thaw;
As bird, and beast, and flow’r begin to warm.

And sun reveals a bright and blessed new day,
Once hidden by a curtain, thick and cold.
Fresh glories waken, and stretch forth, anew.
God’s mercies for the day ahead unfold.

Oh Son, who melts away the darkest veil;
Who warms the heart that’s filled with joy and grace;
Come touch us with the rays of Thy sweet love,
And let us gaze upon Thy lovely face.

Oh, Dayspring from on high, shine down on me.
I shall, forever, gladly worship Thee.

Lisa DeVinney is a homemaker and mother of six in upstate New York. She enjoys photography and writing devotional poetry in her spare time. Lisa is the author of several books, including a devotional entitled I Will Lift Up Mine Eyes. She also maintains her own website at

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Special Feature Collaborative Poem--By Sara Kendrick and Doris Culverhouse--United States


By Sara Kendrick and Doris Culverhouse

Swimming, life carefree
Net tightens around the school
Deliverance, grace

May your hook always be cast
Where you least expect fish caught

Synergism, save
These lost fish, grateful intent
Catch and release, Life

Responsible now
Freedom, new life in warm water
Breach, spout words, joy, sing

School of life, protective school
Numbers rise with the right bait

Bait, love, nurturance
Guide... North Star...The leader Home
Reward eternal life

The Warlock’s Rubric--By John Polselli--United States

The Warlock’s Rubric

Sail down upon the river, child;
   Sail on beneath the bridge,
Where lives a hidden wizard, mild,
   Providing tutelage.
Drift deep within the darkness, where
   His soft voice beckons thee,
And drop thy anchor by his lair--
   O, heed his urgent plea:
“Do not release the rose of youth
   Regardless of thy years,
For should it fall and wither, truth
   And joy shall turn to tears.
Ensnare the springtime in thy heart
   Until thy final breath,
For though thy mortal cloak depart,
   Thy soul shall conquer death.”

John Polselli’s poetry has been published in many literary journals and is the recipient of several Editor’s Choice Awards.  As a poet, John enjoys composing in all traditional forms including free verse as well as inventing his own.

How Dare You--By Ndongolera C. Mwangupili--Malawi

How Dare You

For Denis, my nephew

How dare you die and leave us wondering
How you dared dying? Is this one
Of those games you like playing -
Missing in action - and your fellow men
In uniform coming to look for you?

How dare you die and leave your child wondering
How possible it can be to know no father? Is this
How silly life can be that you come back
From a soldierly mission only to die of malaria
On a silly Wednesday like an Ash Wednesday?

How dare you die and leave your wife wondering
How a morning bye can lead to widowhood? And how
Stupid life can be when what we see becomes
An illusion of what really is. And there we are -
Fools, chasing our own follies. And life remains life.

Ndongolera C. Mwangupili works as a Senior Inspector of Schools in Malawi. He has vast experience as a teacher of English and Bible Knowledge. Many of his short stories, poems and essays have been published in the Malawi News and Weekend Nation. His stories are anthologized in Modern Stories from Malawi and The Bachelor of Chikanda and Other Stories. His poem “The Genesis” was anthologized in The Time Traveller of Maravi: New Poetry from Malawi. His other poem “Letters to a Comrade” is published online in India on He believes that there is a thin line between fiction and reality. All that people write is a re-creation of what is already known to the writer and exists not only in the mind of the writer but also outside the writer, therefore, fiction is actually facts written as if they are not facts. He is married to Angella, and they have a daughter Mary Magdalena.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Forever There Within Our Minds--By Marcus Omer--United States

Forever There Within Our Minds
( For Chad )

The days of weeping slowly pass,
but still within the question why
a life so young could not last,
and one so dear to us must die.

The answers wait another day,
when all our sorrows will be healed.
The giver of life will have His say,
and life’s mysteries are revealed.

Until that day this void we’ll fill
with memories frozen in time.
A part of you is with us still,
as from these shadows we must climb.

A zest for life, your carefree ways
made bright the path of all you met.
Exuberant thoughts filled your days,
a sunny smile we’ll n’er forget.

We’ll reap those thoughts when days are long,
reflections that you left behind.
Your time with us becomes a song,
forever there within our minds.


Marcus Omer got serious about writing after he retired in 1997. He draws his inspiration from the many emotions we experience in life. He has published Of Sunshine and Clouds with iUniverse and The Winding Road with Shadow Poetry. He’s also published in Snippets, The Magic of Words and several issues of Golden Words.

before dusk settles--By David J. Kelly--Ireland

before dusk settles

Herb Robert’s dainty wavering
in the gentle evening breeze …
Hart’s Tongue ferns now savouring
the dewfall, by degrees …
A Scot’s Pine, still, regretting
the limbs it left behind …
Two Goldcrests pirouetting,
their voices intertwined …

The setting is European, so some of the plants and animals may not be familiar:

Herb Robert is a small pink flower, with delicate leaves.
Hart's Tongue is a fern with a rather peculiar shape.
The Goldcrest is a close relative of the Golden-crowned Kinglet.


David J. Kelly is an animal ecologist based in Dublin, Ireland. While his day job revolves around science writing, his light poetry and Japanese verse forms (haiku, tanka, haibun and haiga) have been published in a number of journals and anthologies. He aspires to publish a book of poetry one day, when he has enough suitable material. David is a member of The British Haiku Society and Haiku Ireland.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Veterans Day Tribute--By Karen O'Leary--United States

Today is Veterans Day in the United States.  Thank you to all the Veterans, Current Military Personnel, Law Enforcement Officials and their Families for all the sacrifices they have made or are making to promote freedom and protect people around the world. This is a day to honor you and your partners all over the world that share in a vision for peace.  May God protect each and every one of you.

Our Nation’s Heroes
Bless our nation’s veterans,
    protectors of this land.
Despite how hard the mission,
    side by side they took a stand.
They fought with faith and honor,
    hearts filled with country pride.
Defenders of our freedom,
    some were wounded, others died.
Bless these loyal heroes,
    souls one in righting wrong.
With gratitude, we laud them
    for they kept our nation strong.

Karen O'Leary is a freelance writer/editor from West Fargo, ND.  Her poetry, short stories, and articles have been published in a variety of venues.  She released her first book of poetry in 2011 called Whispers... published by A.P.F. Publisher.  Their second project, anthology of short verse, contains poetry from 73 talented writers from across the world and was released in 2012.  Karen is a member of The Writers and Poetry Alliance and the Haiku Society of America.

The Ocean and Me--By Tom Davis--United States

The Ocean and Me

I love the Ocean

the sound of waves
thrashing the shore

the crunch of wet sand
under bare feet

the smell of seaweed
and baked on suntan oil

the taste of salt water
up my nose

I also love the Smokies

but my heart belongs
to the sea

In his younger years, Tom Davis served as a Special Force Combat Diver. It seems to him that he spent more time on, in, and under the water than as a landlubber. This and other adventures he has written about in his memoir, The Most Fun I Ever Had With My Clothes On: A March From Private to Colonel.

Frosted Panes--By Elaine George--Canada

Frosted Panes

When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane,
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again;
In that old house, there by the sea, where you wove that tapestry,
With all the glorious memories, of your life upon the sea.

With weathered palm, so deeply etched, with every season past,
You rubbed a porthole in the center, of the frosted glass,
Where outside, in splendour lie, a winter-wonderland,
As halos rose above your head, from a pipe bowl in your hand.

And there upon a rocking chair, as smoke rings filled the air,
We rocked across a sea of dreams, wind tangled in our hair;
To lands I’d never been before, we stepped upon those shores,
And through your eyes I saw each one, and still I wanted more.

The morning passed in dreams between two pairs of eyes of green,      
As the world outside, held its breath, in a sea of snowy cream;
And when the chill of winter melted, from the windowpane,
The whistling kettle, on the stove, brought us home again.

You held my hand and looked at me, with that twinkle in your eyes,
And told me you would be my Captain, 'til the day I died.
So, when winter paints those frosty ferns, on my windowpane,
I find myself a little girl, up on your lap again.

Born in New Brunswick, Elaine George spent the early years of her life living in Lorneville (a small fishing village along the Bay of Funday) still inhabited by many of her family members.  Much of her writing is inspired by the memories of that place and those wonderful people.  She has published two volumes of poetry and is currently writing a novel entitled Out of the Darkness.  Many of her poems and short stories have appeared in magazines in both Canada and the United States. Currently she lives with her husband in Wainfleet, Ontario.

Monday, November 10, 2014

Hey Hank, Did You Just--By Tim Ryerson--United States

Hey Hank, Did You Just -

hi-jack my haiku?
Hah! You hi-jacked the wrong ku
You stole a senryu

I hide my haikus
safe and sound beneath silly...
senryus such as this

Hark and heed this Hank!
Stealing somebody’s senryu
is scandalous BUT

heisting haikus or
holding a haiku hostage
Have you no heart, Hank?

Tim Ryerson is a published poet from Ponchatoula, Louisiana who retired from the printing business in 2011. He began writing in the 80’s but did not take it seriously until 2001 after the untimely death of his then 21 year old son. He does not have a ‘signature style’ but prefers writing different forms of poetry. Many of his poems use southern slang and Cajun dialect. He also enjoys writing humorous poems, especially limericks and senryu and was among the winners in the latest Humor Press writing contest with his entry “Emergency Rooms Just KILL me.”

memories...By Gert W. Knop--Germany

In my memories
Edinburgh in mist
Raindrops like dew

Gert W. Knop, born in 1943, studies art and tropical agriculture in Germany and Scotland (University of Edinburgh). He has lived in many different countries and writes mainly in German, English and Spanish. He currently resides in Zittau (Saxony), Germany.

Sunday, November 9, 2014

Winter Wonderland--By Christine Tate--United States

Winter Wonderland

Winter makes its grand debut
as it obeys the good Lord's cue.
old man sun sneaks a peek
behind clouds with fuchsia streaks.
hearth and home are a retreat
from blustery winds, snow and sleet...
cozy blankets keep us snug
like a fuzzy big bear rug.
while children skate on frozen ponds
shivering moms and dads look on.
riding sleds down icy hills,
invigorated by the thrills...
it's a picture postcard sight,
a winter wonderland delight!

Christine Tate lives in New Jersey. She is the mother of three married sons and has eight grandchildren. She started writing inspirational poetry in 1994, and is blessed to encourage others and honor the Lord. She was widowed in 2007 and met her new husband Artie, a widower, in the nursing facility where their late mothers resided. They've been happily married for 2 1/2 years. Since neither of them ever expected to marry again, they consider it a "divine appt."