Darkest winter,

Ice with snow,

Coldest day

I have known.

Birds a-flutter,

Through frosty pane,

Flying to

Then fro again.

By my hearth,

Most cozy be,

I’d bring them all

Inside with me!

Copyright 2021.      L.L. Shelton.

A few moments before six this morning, our little ebony and white Ferdinand, only five months old and once a lively but patient presence in our barn, left us.  He was so named due to his pattern being remarkably similar to that of the hulking but graceful bull of children’s picture book fame, who wished only to enjoy the flower filled meadow on sunshiny days but was, to the dismay of not only Ferdinand but to the consternation of his fans, instead made to enter the fighting arena in Spain.   Our own little Ferdinand had seemed to bear a resemblance to his namesake in pleasant disposition as well as in appearance, and as he festively frolicked through the season of being a kid, easily endeared himself to all.

It is true that  the miracle of life never ceases to completely engage me in ecstasy, and impending death never ceases to call forth a full and encompassing anguish.  Still, there is a time to stop clinging to the here and now.  It had been a long night and Ferdinand’s occasional weak and pitiful bleat as he struggled in the throes of serious illness instigated a tremendous ache in my heart.  And so I listened as my soft  but persistent cheerleader tones, the ones that I had been using for the past forty-eight hours as I  tried to encourage him to this life, turned to gentle soothing notes of assistance in letting go of his body to recover life in a different form.  Then, I heard myself whisper that I knew he was destined to a joyful reunion with his mother who had passed in similar fashion only days before.  In this event, I felt a transcending peace surrounding our beings and only a few shallow breaths later, the little fellow stretched his legs and began to run.  Though he lay on his side, anchored to the pillow by his exhausted body, unable to lift his head, his previously crippled legs moved perfectly smoothly in a running motion.  His eyes appeared focused on some distant desire that only he could perceive- then he stopped abruptly and his tail began to wag with joy.   Sensing that I was witness to  something  extraordinarily beautiful, I was rapt with attention.

Some, having little experience with farm animals, do not realize the exuberance that is often expressed in the goats frantically wiggling tail, but I am quite familiar with the wonderfulness of it, and I have seen it often when the kid whose eyes have located his mother at a distance realizes that his strong little legs will efficiently carry him through the pleasant pasture in her direction and suddenly finds himself close beside her.  Another sight common to the goatherd is that of the obvious adoration between the pair.  Their eyes shine and their countenance is visibly lifted in one another’s presence.  The young one will often skip and hop around the doe, bleating  excitedly upon their sure reunion.

Seconds following this miraculous expression of his copper deficient, partially paralyzed body, Ferdinand closed his eyes.  Then, he visibly relaxed and quietly resigned his brief existence in this life; and I realized  anew that I am blessed to have experienced his life here and to have been included in his passing on to his next adventure.

Copyright 2020.    L.L. Shelton.

Of what I was about to do,

My brain it simply has no clue.

I wander here, I wander there,

Searching for it everywhere.

I look up, I look down.

My eyes they hasten all around,

At last remember what is due,

To travel back to what I knew.

Copyright 2020.    L.L. Shelton.

If Gloria Steinem is correct, if marriage is only legalized prostitution- then God is the king pimp.

But what if she is wrong and marriage- marriage apart from the state, marriage practiced as it was designed to be and intended to be by God, is the most beautiful gift God bestowed upon humanity, second only to Christ Himself?

What if the perversion of marriage has been purely manmade;  brought about by our self-centeredness, our sin and our unwillingness to forgive, the natural result of individual cynicism and hardheartedness?

Copyright. 2020.    L.L.  Shelton.

I know you by now.  You are the ordinarily pleasant sounds of life moving through the day, the  common mistakes of a moment that everyone makes, but you are disguised as something terrible.  You make me feel as though I need to cover my ears and seek shelter.  You cause me to be nearly unable to withstand these usually comforting evidences of the living.  Normal existence grates across the fabric of my being.

Next, you appear as screws puncturing and turning in one or another well chosen area of my inner space.  Most often I feel you in my upper arms, my neck and shoulders, and my lower back.  You show up violently as though you are outraged at having been suppressed.  You immediately explode and your ranting is somewhat paralyzing.

Finally, there is debris scattered sparingly across my shoulders, around my collar bone, occasionally along my spine.  Your signature in little blistery pop-ups that itch momentarily; that I unwittingly run my nails across in response to your demands, that become crusty, scab-over and pass away as mysteriously as they arrived.  Your clarifying claim of responsibility for the terrorist act.

Treacherous enemy that you are- you require absolute surrender to ease the pain.  We are, therefore, at odds.  Though I ache, though I am near exhausted, I will move, I will recover, and I will live.

Copyright 2020.    L..L. Shelton