Slumber’s Ardent Grace

Slumber’s Ardent Grace

The hours fly by and sleep eludes my mind,
Because tenacious images hold sway.
An unheard voice whispers words not unkind,
My words -- to drive the images away.
Bright images, fantastic and mundane,
And shadow constructs built of doubt and fear;
I see them all, the pleasure and the pain,
And grand adventures make sleep disappear.
Soft arms of slumber quietly enfold
My shoulders, sagging, weary with the strain.
Yet, on they flow -- the words -- timid and bold;
To tell the tale, to let me sleep again.
At last, the words release their fierce embrace,
And I succumb to slumber’s ardent grace.

Mick McKellar
August 2015
I was up again last night, in the wee hours, pecking at my tablet to translate images to words and release my mind -- for it was time to dream.

Mick

Aging Summer

Aging Summer

Soft, warm breezes betray with shallow breaths,
Long golden hours spent waiting on the night;
When glints of sunlight flare their tiny deaths,
And crimson clouds salute the passing light.
The morning dance sleeps longer with each day;
The molten orb is later to embark
On daily journeys, swiftly on its way
To rendezvous with shadows of the dark.
The torrid air now carries scent of cool
And misty daybreak, rain-soaked window panes,
That signal change, a limpid, liquid pool --
A mirage of refreshing Autumn rains.
We sense the changes, soon upon us all;
As aging Summer births the infant Fall.

Mick McKellar
August 2015

Far too often I hear the remark, "There is a touch of fall in the air."

Mick

Dichotomy

Dichotomy

Never happier, than when not laughing;
Never more in love, than scolding my child;
Never more at ease, than when I’m gaffe-ing;
Never more severe, than when acting wild.
Never hungrier, than when I’m sated;
Never more relaxed, than when energized;
Never more wistful, than when elated;
Never more serene, than when I’m surprised.
Never sillier, than when I’m austere;
Never more certain, than when I surmise;
Never more kindly, than when I’m severe;
Never more foolish, than when I am wise.
Never more at peace, than when I’m crying;
Never more alive, than when I’m dying.

Mick McKellar
August 2015

Human beings are a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, inside a paradox.

Mick

Whisper to My Heart

Whisper to My Heart

My mind remains so full of daily cares,
I scarce can see my moments through my needs.
So blinded, changes catch me unawares;
I can’t see where my stumbling journey leads.
The beating of my heart fills up my ears.
The sound of my own voice rends silent air.
I taste the bitter, salty, tang of tears,
From lashing, angry hatred ev’rywhere.
A rational redoubt of human thought,
And paragon of logic, science bred,
Can not refute the insight that I bought,
With coin earned while I flickered, nearly dead:
With senses filled with logic, joy, and woe,
Lord, whisper to my heart what I must know!

Mick McKellar
August 2015

A silent prayer I’ve never uttered aloud; my last thoughts before I sleep silently carry this request to God each night. I spent most of my life trying to think my way through every challenge, when I should also have paid attention to that tiny voice whispering to my heart.

Mick