Winter’s Frost



Stepping into the black of frosty night fingers lose warm mittens

Calling me hither to view magic sights more to see tomorrow will be

A yawn before dawn, God’s breath blankets all with freezing air

Below the moon of white glowing above so high and bright

There lies a patio table covered for winter with a frozen top

Patterns glisten in blinking lights below inky skies above

Where air stops to rest on camel-colored cloth

Stand back to get a better view

Snowflakes sparkle upon a frozen surface leaving

Speckled dust of diamonds shaved and carved to perfection

Diminutive sizes mirroring heads of straight pins in shining silver

Once draping fabric folds to dance within windy music stiffen to the touch

Brushing along one side, an unusual sound is heard

Kind of crunching, more of moaning, not quite frozen.

Morning light with sky of blue begins anew

Frost is sprinkled like powdered sugar everywhere

Wrought iron swings alone don’t sit there fall right through

Favorite bench beckons me in woods so grande shall have to wait

A small price to pay fore next year’s rays of early warming spring

Relish such artistry and elegance of winter’s frost until I sing

Life and Death

I am not to question why the flame of a candle dims, burning out unexpectedly.  Around me, the air feels of slight warm breath.  Floating, cloud like and breezy.  Tipped wick of soot flickers, igniting new light within.   From a cocoon, new butterfly wings flicker and flutter in colors of crayon yellow, red and burning blue.  Rejoice in all things anew.

Kim Gosselin



Scars are not injuries, Tanner Sack.  A scar is healing.  After injury, a scar is what makes you whole.”

China Mieville, The Scar

Thank you to all who gave their time, their thoughts, their folded hands in prayer.  My “family member” of 13 years had surgery early yesterday.  The lengthy surgery left a long and lasting scar.  Some will likely point their bony fingers, shake their shaggy heads or simply shy away.  Instead, my family member praises God today.  His leg has been saved.  The scar signifies his “wholeness.” There was a chance it wouldn’t be this way.

Now we pray to God, for healing, for the massive infection to be cured, to go away.  We pray for strength, for courage, for faith and perseverance.  It will not be easy.  Even if all goes well there is a long and winding road ahead.  Please light his path, be his guide, take his hand….

“A scar is what makes you whole.”

Sedona Mountainside and "Hidden" Chu...

Sedona Mountainside and “Hidden” Church of the Holy Cross

Happy Birthday

Everyone knows this is the day to celebrate the birth of Jesus: December 25.  When I was a child, my father taught me to sing a song of joy.  Happy Birthday, Jesus.  It was and is the most important birthday celebration of all.

For just one moment, maybe a minute or more I’d like to say, “Happy Birthday” to my father too.  I love you, Dad, and wish you many, many more.


The Reason For The Season

The star of Bethlehem viewed from Main Street ...

The sky was dark, deep and black with not a natural light around except for one.  I glanced its way.  Far in the distance it was there staring back at me.  A single star.  It seemed so small, yet it was sparkling full of light.  Hanging loosely in the openness there, it was like a puppet without its strings.  Way up high, like the brightest bulb I’d ever seen.  It glowed and twinkled much like a picture from stories I’ve read to my children when they were small.

This bright and shining star was God’s gift of light, sparkling in the early morning darkness of the night.  With Christmas coming soon, it reminded me of the famous star of Bethlehem.  For this writing it’s only a symbol I know. Still, memories of Sunday School and the true reason of the season have brought me back to earth.  Take time to stop.  Say a prayer.  Go to church.  Give thanks to God for His only begotten son.

Forget the stores, the paper and the bows.  It’s all about the here and now.  The little things we can do for one another.  A toy we give to charity, a silver coin we put in a red metal kettle at the nearest corner, or a pet we rescue at the pound.  We can easily walk someone across a busy street, or purchase an extra bag of groceries for a family in need.

Give  time to others, read a book, stop to visit or run an errand.   Open your eyes.  If you look…….. you’ll see them there.  It’s not hard.

They look no different from you or me.

God’s Day of Rest

Charles River, 8 January 2010: Another fresh c...

It’s Sunday, the seventh day symbolizing the day of rest. To worship God.

Afterward, maybe your day of rest will be to simply take a break from a long week of work, to sit on the sofa, watch a move or a football game.

I’d like to play. The meaning of which most of us have forgotten. It’s been lost somewhere in our childhoods from long ago.  My eyes light up and sparkle at the wonder beheld in my grand-daughter’s blue eyes whenever she’s at play.  Truly, it’s one of the things I enjoy most about her.  Often, I peek around playroom corners to peer at her darling playfulness.  I am in awe at the tender way she feeds her babies.  While she rocks them ever so gently, she feeds their fiercely closed mouths magic bottles full of “milk”‘ that never empty.  She doesn’t seem to care or even notice.  Yes, it’s “magic,” all right.

Everything, Gracie, sees or touches delights her.  Perchance a fairy godmother from the page of one of her story books flew to pay a special visit just for her?  When did we lose that?  I want to feel her innocence, the childlike wonder of it all!  Give it back to me for just a single day. Maybe today, the seventh day, it’s meant to be.

After a warm and hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and whole wheat toast, I’m going out to play!  Me, yes it’s true!  I’ll dress warmly and look silly of course, but I don’t care.  I’m sliding in the snow today.  Going to build a snowman too, with a crooked carrot for his nose and a warm wooly scarf around his neck.  I’ll throw a snowball at my friend (careful not to hit him in the face), fall down and giggle deep babbling sounds from my belly, the kind that hurt so good!

When I’m nearly finished, I’ll find a special place that’s still soft and white, left untouched by deer from our small forest land.  I’ll lay down flat on my back where I can  listen to the quiet of God above.  The snow will take turns falling at intervals from the barren trees high in the grey skies over head.  Plop…..plop…..plop….plop.

Like years ago, I’ll flap my arms and legs back and forth, making patterns to create snow angels, like my father once taught.  Maybe one, two, three or more. I leave them for God’s eyes only, no one else can see except the Man above. It is the seventh day, my day to rest, my day for long-lost play.

Thank you, God, I needed that. How did you know?

English: Play area, Muchall Park, Penn, Wolver...

snow angel

Snow man

A Minor Tribute To A Major Man

Twenty Words Describing Nelson Mandela:

Kind, Brave, Courageous, Forgiving, Solitary, Admired, Moral, Historic, Influential, Worshiped, Peacemaker, Empathetic, Soulful, Forgiving, United, Worldly, Inspirational, Teacher, Colorless……………FREE.

                          Rest In Peace

English: Nelson Mandela in Johannesburg, Gaute...