On the cold days,
Minnie comes inside,
she likes to go in the dark basement,
and sleep in the warm corners,
she sometimes chases mice,
she is shy of strange people,
but friends of all the animals.
She thinks she is a chicken,
she grew up with them in a big barn,
she burrows holes in they hay bales
to keep warm,
and sleeps curled up next to Maria, when she can.
She has three legs, and uses them well,
she curls up into a ball near the wood stove.
Of all the buildings I see, old farmhouses seem to have the most emotion, new buildings and homes rarely do. Old farmhouses were simple, temples of work and family, they hang on still but show their age and wear and tear. Still, they feel so alive to me, they touch the heart, nestled near their barns, shrouded in trees for shade and comfort. I went for a walk this morning, it was cold, but I saw this old farmhouse in the distance and it warmed my heart.
If God invited us to a party for hope,
and said, “Everyone on the dance floor tonight,
must be a lamp, to brighten the world,”
How would you know them when they arrived?
Maria would be there first,
eating all the cakes,
swirling on his jeweled dance floor,
she is a lamp,
who brightens any space,
with her smile.
