The Neighbor

The Neighbor

In cryptic cursive he penned
words of gratitude
my cold heart
wondered at the knock
hid behind
on a cold and wintry day

I should wonder what he wants
when all he brought
was his  small note
an offering
and laid it by the door

words of thankfulness
I sit
with guilted
that I  would rest in vain
slow to do the same
pen a note of telling
how it is I feel
black pen on gilded cards
left staring at a
hand that cannot write
a few short lines of humble
I learned from him
the neighbor sent to me
with a shaky cursive hand
still fresh from loss and grief
who poured
into a 2×3
this kind response sat at my door
one day when I was covered up in grief

who taught him how to love the sky
at night, I found him staring
at it ablaze, in oranges and reds
I’ve seen him smile and stare
gazing heavenward
awash in grief
I weep at my
oh January finds me
in desperate need
to write a letter
release it from my cold and thankless heart
and had he used the mailbox
rather than my door
I might have missed the chance to
be shaken
by a simple act

I heard the screen open
slam and hit the door
awakened by my
the neighbor
in cryptic cursive, he penned
words of gratitude.


Running Errands As A Middle Aged House WIfe

 Today is Day 17

Welcome to The Art of Noticing. A 31 Day series exploring what it means to notice all that God has for us as we live richly, deeply in the  folds of the everyday. We are a little over half way there. I don’t want this journey to end. If you’d like to subscribe there is a tab for that at the top and at the bottom of the home page.

Ready. Set. Go Notice

31 days button 500x500

Running Errands As A Middle Aged House Wife
A few hours ago I did not yet know

The lady at the drive thru
Missing teeth, at Bojangles
Or the man at the Rite-Aid missing one or two too
I wish I laughed harder at his attempt at humor
I stink at faking it
It is easy to look away
But kindness rested in their gaps
And I drove away feeling the need to
Breathe prayers,
Humbled am I, the one who got the full set
And as of now keeps them
And I am not handing Diet drinks through the
Drive-thru to the lady
Who is worried more about the shade of white
When  she is bound to worry about the number
Especially the ones in the front
Dental hygiene is expensive yall
Noticing comes at a cost
And it is to stop and give thanks
For things like
Noticing reveals the least of these
The meek shall inherit the earth
And the man at Publix carried my pumpkin to the car
Almost an hour’s wages
Heck, that’s just a guess
The rest I know
And I am humbled
And wonder how to squeeze the love of Jesus
Into a drive thru window
Next time instead of have a nice day
I can say
Tell me how I  can pray
Noticing does that to you
Cold water in the face
And all that jazz
I swear if I could have given some of mine away today
Like quarters or dollars or grace
I would have given away a  tooth
Maybe two
I swear I wouldn’t miss them
These guys were kind and gentle
Just missing  a few teeth.

Can I Get A BIg Amen and A Few Things Parenthetically


Can I Get A Big Amen

The view changes
From way down here
I slipped and fell
On the egg shells
Horizontal view, perspective head in the dirt
Smells fresh
No longer  in the clouds
Splayed out on the floor
By the shift
Get down here
Lower still than you have gone before
Keep bending lower til
You drown in
Pools of grace
Purposefully to soften the
Bubbles and have some
Fun, worry not
You borrow from the unknown
But stay awhile
The view is better than on high
How low can you go
Jesus stooped and bent and crouched
Washed the feet
Meet me here
The view is
What it is
The weather is beautiful
Low, cheek pressed to the cold earth
Wish you were here
We shall rise together, one day

But for now can I get a Hallelujah chorus
Can I get a big amen

A change is comin.


And a few things parenthetically, thank you for being here. A journey into poetry and prose is most wonderful with one or two along for the journey. You can jump over to facebook and follow along there. There is a lot going on these days there and on twitter.

I am sharing words and poems and art of others and my own. Come along and join me. The view is poetic.

I think you have to like me on facebook to follow me on facebook. Sorry if that is too strong a term. It is the only choice you have on facebook these days. But wow if you do.

Elizabeth W. Marshall, viewing life through a lens of grace on facebook

and @graceappears on twitter