Morning Snow

Original photo 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 encounters not the time,
she’ll savour her delight.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2019

Autumn Overtaking

Original photo by Mary Grace van der Kroef

Starting with the crowning leaves
it trickles down with slow intent
until all burn with crimson glow
a constant wave, hours, days old

Watch the tree be kissed by fire
red, yellows, lingering greens
ombre waves, a colour tide
how long until it all consumes?

Converts each leaf as colours flirt
and flit, and drip, and turn
not alone, it kisses all
each a different hue

Fire transformed to gold as
light skips from maple to aspen
from sugar to quaking
autumn overtaking

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Autumns Song

Original poem and drawing by Mary Grace van der Kroef, spelling mistakes and all.

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 there 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

Today is Canadien Thanksgiving. I wish you all a safe, peaceful day.

One Harvest Moon

Original drawing by Mary Grace van der Kroef.

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.

Starting to dip beyond the trees top most branches.

Casting limbs and lingering leaves in to 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.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Morning Love, The Mourning Dove

Original painting by Mary Grace van der Kroef.

Hear his whooing coo
Calling out for you
The safety of his perch
With earnestness his search
Colours softest hues
Browns, with pink and blues
He seeks his lady fair
Will she make a pair?

She chooses carefully
Softest brown her artistry
Weaves a bed of love
Soft as a velvet glove
To hold her clutch of two
Cover them from view
They sit together well
Despite the storms that swell

Together love as one
Until their brood has won
With milk their squabs they raise
Within their infant phase
When the seasons done
Goodbye to summer sun
Come again next spring
Together on the wing

© Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Red-Winged Knight, Red-Winged Blackbird

He wears a cloak of night
Despite his elbows bright

They flash a vivid red
By them, love is led

She is demure in brown
Stripped is her gown

A mother through and through
To her clutch she’s true

Song of silver notes
In the air, it floats

Then of shrill intent
On defence, it’s bent

A knight in crimson ash
Not afraid to clash

His own he will protect
Demanding all respect

Red-Winged Bird in black
I’ll heed your swift attack

This marsh is where you’ve grown
Amid the reeds, you make a throne

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Hummingbird of Green, Ruby-Throated Hummingbird

Original painting by Mary Grace van der Kroef.

Do you hear the hum?
Do you see them come?
Darting here and there
Flitting everywhere

Figure eight in flight
Flashing feathers, bright
Tantalizing hover
Then darting off for cover

Tinny glory beam
A mesmerizing seen
Living dancing jewel
Fed by natures fuel

Hummingbird of green
Ruby Throated sheen
The glimmer of your hue
Beauty that is true

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

Raptor King, The Bald Eagle

Simple practice drawing. By Mary Grace van der Kroef.

Feathered glory
talons tight
wingspan stretched
ready for flight

A power house
the Raptor King
awe inspired
words you bring

Confidence
through every pore
predator
to your core

Using winds
heights to soar
gliding close
to sea and shore

Eagle Master
of the sky
no need to ask
the rhyme of why

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020

This week marks a new chapter in the life of my family. We have started homeschooling. We have chosen a unit study on North American Birds. Mothers can learn too! So I have stretched my artistic wings while teaching for the first time.

I rarely start my writing with a set theme. But here is to trying new things and learning alongside my children. Baby steps, my friends. Simple beginnings, better endings.

Isaiah 40:31 – But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

Nature’s War

Street lights cast
A shimmering glow
As sheets of rain pass
Row on row.

Drops hit pavement
Scattering dance.
A fight with earth?
Or nature’s romance…

Water escapes
In to each tiny crack.
Eroding man’s hold,
Turning time back.

From pavement to sand,
The battle is slow.
But nature has time,
Time? An endless flow.

©Mary Grace van der Kroef 2020