The Dance of My Farmer

I hear him rising with the sun

(Most mornings long before)

To a song and dance of rituals

That send him out the door.

There’s a tempo and a rhythm

To the way he spends his days.

While the weather keeps him on his toes,

His step picks up the pace.

Spring writes poetry in motion as

His tractor makes each round.

He sews a quilted landscape

Tucking seeds into the ground.

He admires each and every row -

Shows concern for every seed.

He has hopes to grow a bumper crop

But nothing’s guaranteed.

His days are at the mercy

Of the choices made by God,

Yet he keeps a faithful outlook

Though at times it must be hard.

Soon autumn paints a picture

On his canvas made of dirt

And the sunset adds a glaze

As he harvests his art work.

Each night his eyes grow heavy

Like the setting of the sun

And he longs to waltz to dreamland

When his busy day is done.

I’m enamored of his passion.

It’s romantic - like a poem.

And he gently takes my hand

When he finally dances home.


© [Kendra Kleve] [2015] [All Rights Reserved].

They Call It Writer's Block

They call it writer’s block …

 I call it too much on my mind, too much going on, and too many emotions in my heart.

You may have noticed that I haven’t written a blog post for quite awhile.  Of course, I have had a number of thoughts and potential ideas over the past (many) months, but I have not been able to put any of them into words quite yet.

Instead of writing blogs, my thoughts have evolved into prayers – a few more than usual.  To put it into words, my prayers have consisted of the following: 

·         Usual expressions of gratitude for my many, many blessings

·         For the health and safety of my children and all my family members

·         For the happiness of my children

·         For bonding moments with my children – I love every moment!

·         For the South Winneshiek Baseball team – District Championships and State Championships

·         For guidance in changing times

·         For understanding when life may throw curve balls

·         For MIRACLES – both LARGE and small

·         And for peace, grace and strength for all.

This morning, as the sun rose amid a heated cloud of fog, I sat on my porch sipping my usual morning coffee.  I contemplated writing a blog and I managed a few words of prayer.  But then my mind went quiet.  I sat there in the peace of the morning as the prominent chirping of nearby birds crowded out any thoughts that may have arose.    

For right now I have nothing more to say. 

Peace, grace, strength, and blessings for all who need them …