On Sunny Days
On Sunny Days
It must be said, has to be confessed
It’s on sunny days that I love the lowlands best
The unending brilliant green where cream cows graze
Off in the distance hanging, the downy soft of a misty haze
Standing gazing, the weathered gnomes of yesteryear
Faces lifted to wherever the fickle wind may steer
Thatched coats browning as they warm in the gentle sun
Like creatures from the damp earth, freshly sprung
Hundreds of little girls dressed in red, peeping
Through green curtains from the beds where they’ve been sleeping
Poppies playful amongst the nettles and the green
Smile and giggle, sing and dance, whenever they are seen
Beautiful flirting ladies curtsy to each other
Until they are plucked and taken to the ball by some ardent lover
Gowned in pinks and yellows and purples and every colour in between
Fields of tulips are amongst the loveliest sights ever seen
Skies are kissed and left blushing pink
A beautiful canvas stretched as the stars fade and sink
A sleepy morning sun rises slowly to cover the rift
The early riser grateful to be given such a gift
Hopping among the flower boxes with which every house is dressed
Little birds are busily feathering their nests
Stopping to trill and sing as they explore, never at rest
Geraniums and roses and daisies, against windows pressed
Shimmering leaves of white cloth catch a whispering breeze
As they float, bobbing across meadows like they were seas
Little boats with sails aloft rise above the green
Surreal and tranquil and ever serene
Canals are spun across landscapes like silver thread
An intricate maze, a spiders wandering web
Taking the boatman where ever he may choose
Along whose peaceful banks fishermen snooze
Through forests and meadows and down ambling lanes
Barrel two wheeled chariots with grandma frames
Along busy cobbled city streets he works and plays
The fiets is king of the kingdom, forever and always
The forests are green in the month of June
The scent of the sea drifts beckoning over the dunes
Giant seagulls call in ancient language to their young
Songs that for a millennia have been sung
Little princes build their castles down on the sand
Maidens bathe and minstrels play, while lovers stroll hand in hand
Here tired souls come to let go and fly free
Down by the waters of the ever changing, ever rolling, sea
Waves crashing along the shore
The late setting sun proclaims the summer once more
Fire descends, burning into the sea
And the winds of change are set tumbling free
Autumn is a magnificent scene as old leaves fall
Their scent fills the air as trees bare their all
Carpets laid down of orange and gold and red
The comforting rustling sound of joy at every tread
Warm and Cozy, so lazy at a summer days end
Companions with whom to laugh and share and lend
Tales are told as bread and bitterballen and pints of beer are sought
Here Gezellig is not just a word, it’s a life philosophy that’s taught
But cold winter days can be gezellig too
Outside snow falling, covers and presents a clean, soft view
While inside a fire crackles and laughter fills a room
Wine and merry conversation making every cheek glow and bloom
Like a gleaming crystal chain of silver and grey
That some giant plucked from his neck and threw away
The canals are resplendent where frozen they lay
Echoing calls as skaters twirl and play
Gentle rain soothes as it falls in gossamer sheets
Knocking gently at the windows through which it peeps
While inside candles burn flickering, long and low
And homes become havens of colour, warmth and repose
But then when grey clouds clear and golden rays shine through
Suddenly the world outdoors looks fresh and new
Tulips flirt, birds sing, and old gnomes stand tall
And the sea keeps beat, playing along with it all
Sails unfurl, fishermen snore
As the webs of silver invite and entrance once more
Seagulls call soaring through skies of blue
And sunshine again turns green meadows to a brilliant hue
Such days make it impossible not to admit
So I have to give in, it’s too hard to resist
I have to confess, I have to say
I do love the lowlands just that bit more on sunny days
Rach
2010
– for my lowlands guy… Mickey D
who makes everyday a sunny day for me ~
That Enchanted Moment
That Enchanted Moment
White swirls all around
It cloaks and conceals
Hidden in whispers
Everything is surreal
No heaven above
The world below is lost
Careful steps taking
Into another world crossed
An odyssey into purgatory
Bewildered and confused
No end to be seen
Dazed and bemused
Then a new wind blows
And something shifts
Sunlight filtering down
As white gauze gently lifts
Parting gossamer sheets
Cobwebs of rain
The universe centres
Nothing is in vain
A grand vista opens
Curtains on a stage
A story book picture appearing
As God turns the page
Greens and blues
Layered with gold
Mountains ever marching
The ancients of old
Hollows of mystery
Valleys lost and deep
Where legends were born
And dragons still sleep
Among dotted lakes and cairns
Silver sparkles play
Fickle night stars
Seduced down to the day
Arcs of colour
Flooding to the ground
Gemstone flecks
Scattered all around
A canvas carved
Painted with life
Lifting high
Far above petty strife
Transporting to another place
Another space and time
Connects to something greater
Something truly divine
Breathe it in
Soak it up with every pore
For this is what
We were all born for
Gods Canvas is all around
Though sometimes weary eyes just can’t see
The beauty and wonder
Cloaked by so much mundane and misery
But when tired feet wander
High and far
Searching for something
Something to explain who we are
Searching for that enchanted moment
When the veil is blown away
So that blinking we can look out
And see the old world drop away
Then time stands still
And the horizon opens up
And suddenly everything seems possible
Life is a very full cup
And seeing we can breathe
And breathing we can gaze
And gazing we can give thanks
For the rest of our endless days
Rach
2009
– written after an amazing hike through mountains in Tasmania. We started out hiking in mist, not able to see a foot in front of us. Then got to the summit – and suddenly – all the mist disappeared and – wow. The world appeared below us. In that moment we felt so small – and so in awe of Jehovah’s awesome design and artistry in the amazingly beautiful world he created.
“You are worthy, Jehovah our God, to receive the glory and the honor and the power, because you created all things, and because of your will they came into existence and were created.” – Revelation 4:11
Sleepy Monday
Sleepy Monday
I want my pillow
I want my bed
I want to lay down
My tired head
It’s too hard to work
On Monday morning
With these heavy eyes
And this sleepy yawning
So here I sit
Slumped at my desk
Dreaming of a great big cushion
On which to rest
Or a hammock somewhere
Swaying in the breeze
Where I can relax
Under shady trees
Snoozing under gentle sun
Everything all warm and calm
Nothing to rush to
Nothing to cause alarm
Listening to the song of birds
And the rolling sea
Lost in hazy dreams
Of you and me
Yes it’s just too hard
On a sleepy morning
To work when I’m dreamy
And still yawning
So I want my pillow
And I want my bed
I want to lay down
My tired head
Rach
2007
“The feeling of sleepiness when you are not in bed, and can’t get there, is the meanest feeling in the world”
– Edgar Watson Howe
“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time”
– J. Lubbock
Breathe & Burn 
Recent Comments