Little Faithy

I've won a blog giveaway! Lucy at Quilting with the Past made a twin to her own doll, Little Faithy, and sent her to me all the way from the Netherlands. Apparently, the pattern for the doll included a poem describing Faithy's origins, so I wrote a poem to thank Lucy for her generous gift.

The Face of Faithy

As Lucy stitched this prairie doll for me,

From bits of cloth stained brown, as if by age,

Her thimbled finger, needle, and fine thread

Shaped more than playthings from an olden day.

A flowered frock of unassuming form,

An apron fashioned out of muslin plain,

The bonnet sewn from madder calico,

Did more than clothe a humble faceless frame.

For with each stitch her expert fingers took,

A bond between two faceless women grew.

A friendship formed from stuffing, cloth and thread,

A seaming of two lives through friendship new.

So, when I look upon this prairie doll,

Imbued with love and generosity,

Instead of visage blank and features plain,

It’s Lucy’s face that gazes back at me!

© Diane Burdin, 2008

Thank you again, Lucy, for drawing my name in your blog raffle. I love Little Faithy and think she'll be happy in my home.

UGH!

This may be the best opportunity, in what remains of our Midwestern Winter, to post this poem. The forecast for tonight is 3-5 more inches of snow, and for now at least, I'm feeling like this poor desicated little leaf:

Last Leaf

One withered leaf still clings to its barren branch,
Though winter’s wind is harsh and frigid cold
Should free the fragile stem’s tenacious grasp.
What keeps it clutching to a lifeless limb,
When its green and supple beauty is long gone?
Perhaps the memory of its verdant past,
Or fear of the uncertainty to come.

© DJB, 2004

Global Warming?

Winter in the Midwest has been uncharacteristically warm. Last week’s 50-60 degree temperatures melted away any vestige of dirty snow loitering on our sidewalks and streets. Personally, I’m looking forward to the next big snowfall, with hopes that our ordinary suburban scenery will change into something magical.



First Snow

I wake up in a snow globe scene--
A shimmering, glimmering world, pristine,

Where crystalline silence fills the air
With blinding brightness everywhere.

A crisp, clean coat of powdery white
Has changed the landscape overnight.

The snow has washed the dirt away
From dingy streets and sidewalks gray,

And icy glitter frosts the trees
With tinsel, twinkling in the bitter breeze.

Here, time floats very slowly by,
Like snowflakes suspended in a glycerin sky.

If only life’s dreary, cheerless days
Could be transformed in this simple way:

Turn the landscape upside down,
Give a gentle shake, then gaze around--

Perhaps the drabness will be replaced
By a wonderland of wintry grace.

© 2004 Diane Burdin

Both this poem and the photo, taken by my brother

Carl, were inspired by Thanksgiving Day, 2003.

Masquerade

In the blue moon-glow of midnight
Specters dance across the lawn
But masquerade as birch trees
In the growing light of dawn.

The stars fall from the heavens
Disguised as fireflies
That flicker in the twilight
With a spark that mystifies.

As angels sing in chorus
Accompanied by the breeze
Their whispering voices harmonize
With the rustling of the leaves.

Spirits cloaked in cobwebs
Cavort with revelry
But, hidden in dark corners
They’re invisible to me.

What wonders lurk around us
That we never recognize
Because we fail to see beyond
What’s right before our eyes!

© Diane Burdin, 2006

Got Milk?

All I Did Was…

All I did was ask for a gallon of milk--
not for something frivolous, like rain-scented air freshener,
or self indulgent, like chocolate truffles and a dozen roses,
or expensive, like filet mignon when it’s not on sale,
or embarrassing and personal, like panty shields and douche,
or unreasonable, like fresh blueberries in February!

When I saw you reading the flyer from the grocery store,
I didn’t ask you to stock the pantry,
or fill the freezer with meat,
or carry home 50 pound salt blocks for the water softener,
or find the best deal on plastic trash bags,
or search all over town for cardamom spice!

All I did was ask for a gallon of milk,
so the boys could eat cereal for breakfast!
What was it about my request that so annoyed you?
Was it something in my tone of voice,
or that we needed the milk today rather than tomorrow,
or that it was a task I couldn’t do myself,
or maybe it was just that I did the asking?

At any rate, we still need the milk!

© Diane Burdin, 2005

Thinking Outside the Box

Some of you may know that I collect Shaker boxes handmade by Marty Travis of Fairbury, Illinois. Every now and then, I add one to the stack. This time it was a tiny red one for the very top.

I tore through the wrapping when the package arrived,  and pulled out the delicate oval box, rich in color and smooth to the touch--the kind thing that just feels good in your hand.

My family doesn't always get my fascination with hand crafted items, particularly those of diminutive size. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before my son asked,"What's the point of a box that's too small to hold anything?"

I explained that Shaker boxes originally held things like garden seeds, herbs and spices or buttons and thread for sewing but are equally functional for postage stamps, or on a dressing table for rings   Finally, I blurted out, ”Use your imagination. It's big enough for a dream!" Cue the teenage eye roll.

Here's a little reminder to "think outside the box." 

Bright Shaker boxes

stacked in perfect symmetry

hold all of my dreams.

Good Morning

Sunrise--
A confection spun
from clouds and sun
in cotton candy hues;
A lustrous treat
served up to eat
in a sky of brightening blues.
Take a bite
of candied light
before it fades away,
And as the sun
melts on your tongue,
taste dawn turn into day.
© 2006 Diane Burdin
Photo by Sheila Lewis