Women At The Farm

In the sharing of this place

We gather by reflective pond.

And share the past, the hurt and pain.

While cobb webs break by hand with broom,

Not knowing what tomorrow brings.

We curl beside the waters edge

And wrestle with a gentle breath,

The unknown places yet to come.

Smoke fills the air from grill and burn pile

And all the while

Grief shared is grief diminished

On the lips, of the women at the farm.

No ride of whimsy on the road

With men in search of folly in the wood.

A vigil held by weathered chair

As if the words can heal a soul.

The weathered chair bears  burdens well

Of words flung through crisp fall air.

Words of women woven on the porch,

A tapestry of trials.

Worn grease coat feels but  feather like

When compared

To the heaviness of the words,

That fall as jet-propelled autumn acorns on tin roof,

Like heart bombs dropping from azure blue

Heavens.

And won’t His Words heal our souls?

Proclaim the women at the farm.

This is the very best way to love. Put your life on the line for your friends.

John 15:11-15

I am joining my friends Sandra, Deidra and L.L. Barkat.

Have you discovered the beauty of wordcandy.me? Its delicious. Courtesy of the folks at Tweetspeak Poetry.

15 thoughts on “Women At The Farm

      1. Oh I love the sharing of women together, hearts entwined and matters deep shared. It is the merging of souls and heart issues that makes a friend special. Yes, good tender times too.

  1. I often seek this healing found in the listening and sharing with my friends. Without it I would be a ruined woman, that’s for sure! I’ve seen God work His grace in miraculous ways in those times. Thanks so much for sharing a beautiful reminder of this grace with your artful brush-strokes of prose!

  2. Elizabeth, this is beautiful. “with men in search of folly in the wood, a vigil held in weathered chair.” Oh, yes, how many times I sat in the weathered chair, waiting. Good Job!

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