“Here in The Garden of Summer’s Slow End”, a poem from L.Willows

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Here in the Garden of Summer’s Slow End

Summer days seeming, long seeming to end,
The green deepens and circles to close every bend.
Birds spread their wings and fly low in the sky
Flocked to far away warmth into the sun’s eye.

You will always be there Heart, remembering that we are One.
Seasons change, time shifts, like the afternoon sun.
See the glow, feel the warmth, in the stillness that comes.
Here we all live where God’s love is spun.

Here in the garden of the summer’s slow end,
There are new beginnings, this in Love’s sweet lend.
When the birds fly like arrows with songs of mystery
Our heart goes with them, in joy’s jubilee.

Summer end days, Heart – summer’s redeem.
How we linger, how we long dream.
In the heavy full sweetness of the last swooning gleam.

© 2019 Linda Willows

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

“Here in The Garden of Summer’s Slow End”, a poem from L.Willows

11374805393_3163632964_b

Summer days seeming, long seeming to end,
The green deepens and circles to close every bend.
Birds spread their wings and fly low in the sky
Flocked to far away warmth into the sun’s eye.

You will always be there Heart, remembering that we are One.
Seasons change, time shifts, like the afternoon sun.
See the glow, feel the warmth, in the stillness that comes.
Here we all live were God’s love is spun.

Here in the garden of the summer’s slow end,
There are new beginnings, this in Love’s sweet lend.
When the birds fly like arrows with songs of mystery
Our heart goes with them, in joy’s jubilee.

Summer end days, Heart – summer’s redeem.
How we linger, how we long dream.
In the heavy full sweetness of the last swooning gleam.

© 2019 Linda Willows

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

Take my Hand, a poem by Linda Willows

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Take my hand heart, dear
come along,
we are walking
we are new.

All of God’s garden,
feels our footsteps
beneath the dew.
Round grow the blossoms
they, open for you.

Feel dear, how the winds lift
As I turn, whirl,
dance love’s hue.

Heart, dear
find the silence
lest my words lose in weep.
Wonders, blessings, beauties,
these are all our to keep.

Please, dear, see farther,
there is land that waits to greet.

Hand, dear, take my hand
our journey lifts
to a garden sweet.

© 2017 Linda Willows

The BELOVED

OLandscapeFR16059914-lgMartyn FoxHeart, dear…come along,
we are walking
we are new.

All of God’s garden,
feels our footsteps
beneath the dew.

Round grow the blossoms
they, open for you.

 Feel dear, how the winds lift…
As I turn, whirl, dance love’s hue.

Heart, dear…find the silence
lest my words all lost in weep.

Wonders, blessings, beauties,
these are all our to keep.

Please dear, see still yonder,
is a land that waits to greet.

Hand, dear, take my hand and
lift our journey soft to sweet.

Linda Willows

Photograph by G. Martin Fox

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