Within your comfortable solitude,
the mournful cry of the loon
heard from the opposite shore
serves up a taste of loneliness.
Not the same as solitude,
but still, you think about it.
How it might be
if she dies first.
© 2026 Richard Havenga
Weaving words of grace and gratitude through the fabric of my photography, I wish to share the everyday miracles of God's creation. Writing with a blend of curiosity, discovery, and spirituality, I invite the reader-viewer along a trail of words and images; thoughtfully selected and graciously given.
Within your comfortable solitude,
the mournful cry of the loon
heard from the opposite shore
serves up a taste of loneliness.
Not the same as solitude,
but still, you think about it.
How it might be
if she dies first.
© 2026 Richard Havenga
In memory of Aaron Havenga (April 2, 1975 ~ November 20, 1994)
Pure joy
radiates from his face
at age four, as he spins
in his circle of life.
Making a small, round wave
in Lake Michigan
that still reaches me,
still touches me.
I've been circling
for decades
into the future
without him.
© 2025 Richard Havenga
Photo Location: Pentwater State Park - Pentwater, Michigan
Photo by Mary Havenga © 1979
When Mary retired in 2008,
she didn't slow down.
She still loves to go Birding
every spring.
Here, she is hiking Angel's Landing
in Zion National Park.
She plays tennis in Michigan,
Arizona and Florida.
Enjoys a spectacular view,
in sometimes risky locations!
Enjoys a stroll along Lake Michigan,
or the Atlantic Ocean.
Knows how to relax along a river,
and read a good book outdoors.
Knows her mind, and does not
straddle the fence.
Knows how to have fun.
Is a very classy lady.
© 2025 Richard Havenga
Bring forth the relevant gifts
that God gave you
and unwrap them.
Share with the world
your passions, your talents,
your desire to create or compete.
Run your miles.
Take your photographs.
Write your words.
Make your music.
Sing your songs.
Dance your steps.
Bake your pies.
Pray your prayers.
Love your family.
Thank you for your
valuable contributions
and the gifts of your talents.
© 2024 Richard Havenga
Aaron Havenga (April 2, 1975 ~ November 20, 1994)
At first,
when it happened,
the weight was so heavy
I could not lift it
off my chest;
the way it pushed
on my heavy heart.
But after thirty years
I've learned how to carry
the weight of sorrow.
Although I've aged,
my strength is greater,
the burden feels lighter,
my faith shines brighter.
Nineteen years of love was not enough,
but we will be together again.
Love, Dad
© 2024 Richard Havenga