Carol A. Hand
Even as storm clouds circle round
a song runs through my mind
reminding me of other times
when ordinary miracles abound
Clouds reflected in a muddy puddle
How can it be that we let children suffer and die
or harm others and our earth out of mindless fear and heartless greed
when beauty and abundance surround us?
With a heavy heart, I choose to love and sing even as I cry…
Mid-Morning Moon in June
I think of unexpected gifts that have come my way.
Clouds reflected in muddy puddles
or moonlight high in the morning sky
I join in song about the circle of life as I greet another stormy day…
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