Tag: nature

Six Word Story (114)

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There are worlds of perception above us and worlds of perception below us. We walk across them, hide under them, and forget that our height only shows us one view.

Crouch down low and realize your lawn is a jungle ready to be explored, and the tree canopy above hides homes that are just as important.

It’s a brave thing to explore where you have never been before. It’s also brave to experience newness in surroundings you thought you had memorized like the back of your hand.

Copyright ©2023 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com

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Six Word Story (113)

marygracewriting1 Comment

Have you ever come back to something or someplace from your past and found it just as it was before, but to your grief, you no longer fit there?

it can be a shock. We might even deny its ys that have changed and insist it’s everyone and everything besides us. Sometimes there is truth to that, but usually, we have changed far more than we realize.

This is a good thing. It’s a normal, and healthy thing to change. It’s also important to go through that release of what was and even grieve for it for a time if we need to. That pause is part of the adventure.

Let yourself look back, remember, even return to that shell and sniff around. But, please, never stay there. Realize that it’s important to move on again after that visit. Make note of those things you miss, and count them as blessings, for they helped you grow into what you are today.

Copyright ©2023 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Hope like Cold Fury

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She took my anger
And flew away
So now, I can finally pray

She was God’s Grace
Before I asked
He gave it through her winging blast

Hidden in
My seeking brush
Hope is His, my fears to crush

He knows my needs
Before I call
This is His story after all

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Hope like Cold Fury was written to accompany the painting by the same name. The original painting by Mary Grace van der Kroef is Sold.

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Six Word Story (97)

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Life is a grinding down of moments, of mass.

Nature takes those fragments and transforms them into something new.

This happens with people too, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

It’s so hard to see past the decay, the destruction.

But if we are brave enough to try, if we trust God has a plan in the middle of grief, we will be shown immeasurable beauty and potential.

He made nature this way for a reason after all.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com

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Titles available by Mary Grace van der Kroef

Morning Snow

marygracewriting3 Comments
Morning Snow by Mary Grace van der Kroef

It may be dark inside,
but without it’s strangely light.
As the world lay sleeping,
nature donned a blanket, white

Though the sky is thick,
with heavy clouds of gray.
The early morning darkness,
is lightened by winter’s play.

I sit in my dark room,
watch the lights return.
Black to gray, with blue and white.
the seasons complete a turn.

Off in the distance,
past trees and lake, there’s more.
Under clouds horizon peaks
a glimmer over the far shore.

It was white and bright but brief
as if the sun is shy.
It’s been a while since winter played
beneath a sun-filled sky.

So she’ll stay behind her clouds,
soften down her light.
This first encounter, not the time,
she’ll savour her delight.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2019

Written at Falcon Trails Resort on October 12, 2019. The morning after the first snowstorm of the year.

The photo is the sunrise view from the chickadee suite.

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Autumn’s Song

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Listen to the crowning leaves
Their glory days proceed with ease,
The wind gives to them a voice.
They shout, with shaking leaves, rejoice.
First time snow has run away
Autumn has another day.

Leaves of gold shimmering shine
Their dying days a heaven shrine
They do not weep as down they fall
They lay their royal carpet for all
And all can play in piles of gold
Rich or poor, young or old.

Soon their gold will turn to brown
But in their cries there is no frown
It’s well known they’ve earned their rest
A golden crown marks them as blessed
The first time snow has come and gone
So autumn sings us one last song.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2019

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Titles by Mary Grace van der Kroef

Maple Red

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See new blush upon the leaves
Slowly spread
Deepening as it flows
To maples deepest red

Perhaps we humans stole these shades
For moments, soft and close
Painting cheeks as we embrace
Those we adore

A tribute to nature’s love
That depends woody roots
While releasing laughter’s leaves,
Nourishment through winter’s silence

The first sign of this acceptance
This dance that nodes at death
The evidence of time’s ministrations
He flirts with nature’s chilling breath

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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One Harvest Moon

marygracewriting2 Comments

It’s 5:30 am.

Mr. Moon is peering through my window.

Wearing his harvest glow like a luminous gem.

Pulling the clouds around himself like a soft collar.

Dipping beyond the tree’s top most branches.

Casting limbs and lingering leaves into dark silhouette.

It’s 6 am.

The tinny child at my side sleeps.

October’s chill shielded by our shared blanket.

Mr. Moon, don’t wake her again.

It’s 6:30 am.

The sky is deepest navy blue.

Mr. Moon, your framing glow is dipping low.

It’s almost time to say goodnight.

My day starts with a sleepy blur.

I can almost hear a murmured purr.

“Goodnight little Mother.”

How can I be upset?

Dressed in his best, yet lonely.

It’s 6:45 am.

Navy turns to dusky blue.

I have almost lost his golden view.

His exit bringing frosty fog that creeps and crawls.

It’s 7 am.

Sky now misty purple.

How I wish he’d come again.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Rock Sentinel

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Gocking eyes
read your lines
In drive by waves
from metal mines

Bare a soul
ripped wide
So metal mines
can drive straight lines

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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Six Word Story (86)

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Some say Mother Earth and Father Sun. If that is so, then I see Earth as the flirtatious one.

She dances through the nether in living finery of every shade.

I wonder what the rest of the galaxy thinks of her?

She is far from the most powerful. But she is a home, a place to rest.

She is neither tame nor safe. Even so, we cling to her for dear life, pressed to her bosom.

Father Sun is ever her constant companion, unmoving. He lets her dance. Ever patient.

©2022 Mary Grace van der Kroef

Photo sourced from unsplash.com

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