That's Beautiful

When I come across an iris on my walk across the grass,
when a rose catches my vision with its brightness as I pass,
that's beautiful.


When I sit down with biology and finally get it done,
when my math sticks in my brain and it's somewhere close to fun,
that's beautiful.


When I groan about the morning, then realize it's Saturday,
when I complain about tomorrow, then remember yesterday,
that's beautiful.


When I'm crying and my glasses keep on getting in the way,
when someone's throwing up and the sky is gloomy gray,
when my skirt is ripped, my drink is spilled and much to my dismay
I'm irritated at my siblings, who just won't go away,


That's ... beautiful?


My tears will dry, the sickness ease, the sun will shine again
I'll mend my skirt and wipe the wet and won't I realize then
these troubles are so very small, and even were they not,
God's grace is on and in me, and His will He has well wrought.


And that's beautiful.


Allison Young, 2012

Dad

He is the one that watched me play, He is the one who makes a blue sky from gray.

He is the one who picks me up, He is the one who helps when I'm stuck.

He is the one who does not see my faults, He is the one who likes to make malts.

He is the one who will walk me down the aisle, He is the one who makes me smile.

He is the one who gives advice, He is the one who always smells nice.

He is the one that I have always had, Who is he, he is my dad.

Camille Sterzer, 2012

Apology

On behalf of Carmina, I would like to apologize for the second week-long silence in the brief history of this blog. It was completely unintentional (which doesn't make it any better) and is much regretted.

Over the weekend, Camille was involved in a phenomenal orchestra and piano performance, which accounts for her failure to post. It also inspired her for a new poem, which she intends to post here, so keep your eyes open for it.

As for me, I have no excuse, but will try to fulfill my duty better next week.

Bubbles

This is a conglomeration of thoughts and happenings of various spring afternoons of my life, and proof that being a big sister is worthwhile.

Bubbles

Blowing bubbles on the porch ...
Ava! Where do you think you're going?
Little darling.
Chasing circles of rainbow light,
my camera never quite catching them ...
a blur here,
a gust there,
and why do they always vanish as soon as I click the button?
Putting the camera down, scooping Ava up
and blowing a slow bubble.
Angie squeals at the size,
Ava reaches and daintily pops it with her baby-finger,
and laughs.
Grinning back, sitting down on the step
getting chalk on my jeans ...
She squirms out of my lap and points to a ladybug 
in excitement.
Bright black dots on shiny red ...
as Angie blows bubbles that float up
and are lost in so much sky.


Allison Young, 2012

Love

What is this thing I feel, what is this thing that is so real.
What is this thing that makes me feel warm inside, what is this thing that I cannot hide.
What is this thing that makes me want to fly, what is this thing that brightens the sky.
What is this thing that is everywhere, what is this thing that is in the air.
What is this thing that is soft as a dove, what is this thing it is love.

Camille Sterzer, 2012

The Grandmother

 Please excuse our mutual lack of postings last week. We were clobbered by life.

The Grandmother

Why, hello, dear! Are you all right?

No room for weariness tonight.

How would you like to rest with me

and watch them all dance merrily?

I’ll tell you something you won’t believe.

(My dear, you’ve crumbs upon your sleeve.)

I was once a bright young girl

who joined the dancers in their whirl

of silks, of laces, of perfumes

and glittered, flashing feather-plumes…

now, don’t you laugh, my graceful dear!

I’d say, ‘It’s getting warm in here,’

to make my partner look aghast

and soon suggest a slight repast.

I’d laugh and let him give me cake

and happily his heart I’d break.

My dear, don’t be as I once was;

when you dance, and when you pause,

be kind to those who give you cake

and don’t delight in what is fake.

Now, off you go, miss mademoiselle—

yes, of course, you look quite well.

Ah, what a sight she is out there,

with happy eyes and flying hair!

I hope she has with pleasure learned

the lesson I so badly earned.

If I have helped her just this time,

the trade of my own youthful prime

will be well worth these silver locks

and all the hours of all the clocks.

Allison Young, 2012