“Feed my Lambs” -JC










My day is almost over

Light lingers on far off


But cannot hold the sun

That moves below the sea’s


Leaves a clue of its descent

In a small pink cloud


Supper comes

When day is closing

Thoughts of those

Who won’t have this


Rise inside my mind

Fill my heart with a living



“Gather ye the harvest”

Of wasted food

Do not throw away

What does not sell

What isn’t ordered

Off a menu

Sold by dates

Not long past

Give to the homeless

To shelters

Where the unwanted


Wasted food     so much


Enough to feed the hungry



Image credit

Miss Mouse







An aura of judgment

Surrounds me

Invades my growing years

Settles into my consciousness

I take it as truth

It is who I become

Hesitant     shy

Afraid to take chances

Holds back     holds back

Cringing at judgmental words

Spoken around family dinner


Between Father and Mother

Words critical of other people

Known     unknown     of me

I live my nickname

Miss Mouse

Hear a voice

Inside myself

Tells me over

Over     over

Don’t try     don’t try

What if you fail

What if you fail


I listen to the voice

Play life safe

Unadventuresome     fearful

Of everything


I blame no one

There is no one to blame

Save my own self



Only remnants of the aura

Remain in my consciousness

Like wisps left from a morning


They pass through my awareness

Are gone


Aura—“a distinctive atmosphere surrounding a given source” –New Merriam-Webster Dictionary

—June 2015