Hark! Angels Singing, Nudging, Exhorting

Brain studies fascinate me. Where do ideas come from? Who is it taps me on the shoulder with gentle suggestions, "Why not try this?" What brings to mind the perfect word I wasn't even looking for? Since childhood I have attributed it all to angels, fanciful angels, storytelling angels, with my best interests at heart. I don't take credit for my creative efforts. I am simply a conduit. You, perhaps, have another explanation. My brother is a fine artist. He can sketch in a minute what I would not do in a lifetime. Cheryl Dolby of Roanoke, Virginia does masterworks of color but that doesn't hold me back. I'm not comparing myself to anyone. I just like to draw angels. These drawings began in 1985 when a list of titles came flooding. 26 in one day! Titles such as Angel of Divine Assignments, Angel of Molecular Levels, Angel of Uninhabited Isles, Angel of Lined Paper Notebooks. And the twins, Angel of It Doesn't Matter at All and Angel of It Matters a Lot. I couldn't imagine writing 26 poems for the titles. I decided I was supposed to draw something. I didn't know what. I hope the Angel of the Christmas Rose above inspires you to a list of your own and a frenzy of doodles.

Petals in the snow?

Cardinals investigate.

Yes! It is Christmas.

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...as December deepens towards the solstice and the night when the angels gathered in song, may you be filled with the light of His coming...

Creche Amidst the Holly

...a house in the Bronx...

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In the 5th grade, I won the Quiet Contest. It wasn't difficult as I was at an all girls' school with chattering students who had known each other since infancy. I couldn't keep up with the cast of characters and knew that I wouldn't be attending for more than a few months Such was the traveling life. My desk was by a bank of windows looking out on a tropical garden with bright heaping cumulus clouds framing it like a ceiling in a wayside chapel. So I drifted off daydreaming the hours away. Nary a word was heard from me--quiet as could be. The prize was a white porous stone Nativity set complete with twelve lambs and seven angels. I was probably supposed to paint it but alabaster was one of my favorite word--"Safe in their alabaster chambers"--snowy was perfect for me. As far as holiday decorations go, a Nativity set beats all. In San Francisco, in Muslim shop selling Levi's, I saw the best ever and the first with an elephant the detail of which was fit for a raj. The photo that decks the high branches of the Treehouse was taken when Pasquale drove us past a house where the decorations were extravagant to the degree that they included a Liberace style piano and an electrical engineer's masterwork of embedded outlets. I focused on the roof scene with my camera as it reminded me of, "Peace on earth, goodwill..."

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Thinking Christmas 1964

A paling ornament of "Baby's First Christmas" is

likely a pun: the creche/1964.

Jennifer was sitting up then in her red smocked dress

ready for a stroller outing

along the pitching sidewalk of Clipper Street,

heading towards the bells of Mission Dolores.

Downtown, Woolworth's sparkled with specialty cakes; the

Emporium's expansive dome seemed to say, "All wishes

come true if you seek a place high enough and arched."

Some things have changed since that time.

She likes lime green now. Urban renewal dazzles

Market with shifting glass reflections, like searchlights.

Clipper Street is the same, though. The wishes I made

for goodness and mercy are still sent, and the promise

of the Prince of Peace continues to exhilarate me.

Come Thou to my heart.

Each year is a kaleidoscope clicking with losses and additions,

timeless fragments glimpsed quickly--

verse/refrain, into the middle and back again.

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...may your heart be as festive as your wreaths and garlands

and your souls light up the world...

The First Night of December

"Summer afternoon." Henry James said those were the most beautiful words in the English language. I do like them and I do like a summer afternoon but if I were to choose one word instead of two, I would probably choose, "December" as it houses many of my other favorites: madrigal, advent, childe, Prince of Peace, pine (and balsam, too). The photo above has ties to Roanoke and Zionville. "Mr. Robo" was a fan purchased for the cabin long before I knew there would be grandchildren coming. He has movable arms and large red eyes that light up as he turns. The cap he is wearing is from Gone CoCo Boutique. That's a great story for a January blob. Behind Mr. Robo you can see the tote bag Cheryl Dolby created using snaps from my childhood, one of my angel drawings, an e-mail about my faith, and my mother's favorite quote from a poet friend, Althea Bass, which reads, "How could you know the way to hold me was to let me go?" However, there wasn't enough room for the "go" so she said that meant I wasn't supposed to go! Speaking of Roanoke, here is a poem from Roanoke days.

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Christmastide on the #51

"Happy Holidays"scrolls on the destination box.

There is talk of the Farmer's Almanac with its

predictions for tall tale snows; the early bird sales

good for finding "something nice" to leave the paper carrier;

the schedule of events at Haven of Hope; and Kwanzaa.

"It's not religious. Each day for six days starting the 26th

you give a homemade gift" reminiscent, I think, of

Twelfth Night and the festive, undulating journey of the Magi.

When did the "partridge in a pear tree" go out of fashion?

A quiet greeting. A wave. A young man laughs at my socks.

He is conversant on many topics. I tell him what I need fixing.

He smiles and suggests, conspiratorially, I ask Santa.

I know about asking. I have asked before, of Someone else.

Long ago, in a stone sanctuary where ancient plaques hung,

written in languages unfamiliar to me, lit by flickering votives

in a country seeping from war, I asked. I asked

for companions to exhort and encourage me.

One prayer. One recurring answer.

The bell rings, "Stop Requested" lights up the screen

and is echoed cheerfully by an anonymous voice.

On. Off. Rejoice. Giving, receiving, asking,

we travel along. Emmanuel. God with us.

For diverse believers and non-believers alike,

Christmas rides the #51.

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...may the blessing of transforming words be yours this December...