A Writing Prayer

During the work of writing,
my prayer ends with this plea:

"Please ignite my mind with images,
and guide my hand to honor thee."

© 2020 Richard Havenga

Photo Location:

Home - Cannonsburg, Michigan

Words Given

The gift of words
provided by the Holy Spirit
offers the opportunity to create,
stimulates the capacity to write;

to give glory and praise
to the Creator
for words given.

© 2020 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Sunset Beach, North Carolina 

2. Buena Vista, Colorado

Table of Contents

A fresh bouquet
of lilacs
with living water
in an antique vase.

The Holy Bible
the living word,
with a green ribbon
to mark his place.

© 2020 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations: Home Garden; Home. 

The Architect

The architect of light:

births the dawn,
saturates the sky,
nourishes the plants,
illuminates the clouds,
warms the world,
develops a dream,
designs the day,

gives graciously,
sustains life.

© 2020 Richard Havenga

Photo Location: Alamosa, Colorado

Earthshine

A soft, summer night,
sweet and ripe.

Whippoorwills kissing
the day goodbye.

Fireflies signaling
at the edge of the woods.

"Earthshine" glowing
on the dark side of the moon.

Time to come inside
and begin writing.

© 2020 Richard Havenga

Photo Location:

SaddleBrooke, Arizona

Windows

In memory of Peter Draugalis Sr. (June 29, 1895 ~ September 10, 1959)

When I was eleven,
my upstairs bedroom was small,
but my responsibility was large.

I had to pray hard every day
for the cancer to go away
from my grandpa,
who had to go away
to a special hospital
in Ann Arbor
for those mysterious
cobalt treatments. 

He had no windows
in his hospital room.
I didn't think this was fair
for a man who loved
to be outdoors,
for a man who loved
to hunt and fish,

for a man I loved
when he let me hunt
between himself and my dad.

They would send me
into brush piles,
down the swales,
through briers and brambles.

If I "jumped a rabbit",
one of them would fire his shotgun.
Grandpa carried a 20-gauge.
Dad had the stronger 12-gauge.

I longed to hear that gunshot
again in October;
only a month away.

As I stared out my window,
I studied the east fencerow,
tangled with thick brush;
sumac and saplings
hung with wild grapevines,
maybe a rabbit hiding
in the dense briers that
curled along the ground.

I watched out my window
as dusk arrived.
I listened out my window
as a whip-poor-will
sang his melancholy song.

I prayed out my window:
"Please God, give Grandpa
a little more time."

© 2020 Richard Havenga

Endnote: 

Today, in my upstairs bedroom, I have two shotguns: a 12 gauge, and a 20 gauge.

McCarthy Lake

The lake has been 
waiting patiently for years.
It calls to me:
"Where have you been?"

Welcomes me back
to float its smooth surface
in my ancient aluminum rowboat.

Overturned on the weedy shore,
overrun with vines and branches,
it has sheltered snakes, muskrats,
multiple mouse nests,
and countless spider webs.

All this is swept away now,
as I push off through
dense green reeds
and glossy, round, lily pads,
and onto the deep dark water,
where this little spinner jig 
attracts a beautiful bluegill,
tugging, zipping, cutting,
in quick underwater circles,
the rod tip straining,
this pugnacious pan fish 

spinning on mono-filament
until I lift it

into the boat. 
The first of many.

Yes! I have returned.
I am back on McCarthy Lake.

© 2020 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1, 2, & 3. McCarthy Lake - Kent County - Michigan

Before Bedtime

 

Just before I go to bed,

I always step outside

to look around and listen.

If it's a warm, wet spring,

the Peepers and Chorus Frogs

are calling from the wetland.

If it's a late, lazy summer,

I listen to the rasping of Cicadas

and Snowy Tree Crickets.

If it's a cool, calm autumn,

there's the faint tick of leaves

falling through dying leaves.

If it's a clear winter night,

I view a coliseum of stars

suspended in a moonless sky. 

© 2020 Richard Havenga

Photo Locations:

1. Video: Home Woods - Cannonsburg, Michigan

2. Home Woods

3. SaddleBrooke, Arizona