Thanks to my friend, Jan, over at Jan’s Sushi Bar, I’ve decided to give this here posting every day thing a try, y’all.
It’s called NaBloPoMo,and I can’t believe how long it just took me to write that. Stands for “National Blog Posting Month”. You post something every day for a month.
This week’s Spin Cycle topic is “your favorite post”. It was hard to select a favorite ( I like everything I write, I’m vain like that! ) but this one definitely stands out from the rest. It has the distinction of being the one post with the least views of all time.
It’s no real mystery to me why this particular post, entitled “Mysteries” received so little attention. I posted this after I lost my beloved grandmother, the author of this poem, after I had just found out that I was about to become a grandmother, myself! I offered no prelude, or explanation, so it just kind of sat there waiting to be noticed. Quiet and unassuming, it comes without fanfare and it asks for none.
And yet, it says volumes. Kind of like my grandmother.
As each season passes by,
When rain drops from the sky
Or the sun shines from above
And we feel the warmth of love,
Does not mankind understand?
These are the wonders of His hand.
How the wind stirs the trees
Or lashes out on angry seas
And whips the sand across the dune
Or scurries clouds o’er the moon.
Does not mankind really know?
These are wonders He doth show.
He pulls the shade when there is light
To make the darkness of the night
All our cares and burdens keep
While we rest in blissful sleep
When morn comes, we know someone
Moved the stars, the moon and sun.
If the greatness of this span
Is not enough to convince the man
Let’s ponder on a baby’s birth,
Life and death upon this earth,
Then we surely understand
These are the mysteries from God’s own hand.
by Gladys Parker