I named my daughter River her eyes are bright and shine and sometimes when I look at her I can't believe she's mine. But she's an angel I'm only borrowing her love's not just for me and someday too soon I know I'll have to set her free. For now I'll hold her in my arms and sing her lullabies until she's ready for the world and spreads her wings and flies. ~Becky Robbins Photo: "Spring Stream", South Bridgton, Maine, by Becky Robbins.
Under the Wolf Moon the forest was too bitterly cold for shivering chickadees. I found one this morning beneath the pines frozen and lifeless in blue shadowed snow. I’m sure there were more that succumbed. And yet all around me the chickadees sang. They didn’t rebel against a cruel and unfair world by refusing to sing until conditions became more favorable. And they didn’t feel so sorry for themselves that they withdrew from the flock and forgot they had music to share. No. Chickadees sing in the morning. So they sang. ~Becky Robbins Photo: "Wolf Moon", Harrison, Maine by Becky Robbins
Fire in the belly running with the wind chasing shadows with a dreamcatcher trying not to sin. I never saw the answer but the question broke my heart I wished upon a star for you I wished the new would start. I waited by the water skipping stones until you came if you’d lost me in the moonlight I’d love you just the same. I listened to your echoes to your song and to your cry there’s a story in the thunder there’s a lifetime in the tide. When the shadows deepen when the dark is near I’ll be waiting in your wonder I’ll be fighting with your fear. And in each blissful sunrise in our laughter and our calm we’ll find peace between the storm clouds we’ll find hope to keep us warm. But if far woods do beckon and if perchance I have to go bright birds will sing my song for you I’ll be the sparkle on new snow. ~Becky Robbins Photo: "Painted Trillium", Naples, Maine by Becky Robbins.