Scattered here

scattered there

all around the ground

fallin’ amidst our days

restless senseless nights

life’s leaves are a fallin’

down down down

reddish as city violence

green like corporate corruption

down down down

brown as Uvalde pain

orange as prison jumpsuits

tragic as Camp Mystic rain

down down down

life’s leaves are a fallin’

we never know the turns they take

when circumstances come a callin’

As a child, I loved weekends. As an adult, weekends…eh…

We use weekends as a dumping ground: Time to do all the chores, all the running around, all the stuff we couldn’t do or get done during the week. Check out any major city these days and you’ll find freeways as busy on Saturday and Sunday as they are on Tuesday and Friday. Weekends deserve to be sacred… Downright precious. Time to relax and kick back. Take the edge off. Place our hands in our gardens, the soil. Feel that earth connectedness. Take a drive to visit a loved one. A hurting one. Attend a place of worship. To worship the one who makes the soil for our garden which helps our hands to connect with earth and nature. No, weekends don’t just happen. They are made and grown. Downright special.

Every man has a jewel

a pearl oh so rare

tis time we look into their heart

and find it lying there

to judge is not our place

condemn we need not do

whatever we find dismayed

will yield a need, so true

we owe no one anything

but in love we serve them

til that which is perfect comes

to take away the dim

so look beyond the clouds

embrace each with your heart

for now we see through masks

and only know in part

although we must have faith

hope makes us not ashamed

the greatest is love no doubt

which never carries blame.

©Glendal  Wallace  2025

You lived with purpose and passion

reflected in all that you did:

for you were the Art of beauty

beauty embraced with the warmth

and light of your smile—

a smile that spoke kindness, grace, joy

a beauty that spoke ease in your presence

strength in your essence

for you were the Art of giving

giving enriched with a heart of delight

you gave us gifts like a ready laugh

encouraging words like an evening bath

for those you loved—giving

was your nature, your purpose

for you were the Art of having courage

courage empowered by the will to fight

life’s battles and fight you did through

years of pain, moments of shame

fighting through struggles and countless tests

some you mastered, more or less

but He who knows the heart saw you through it

for you were the Art of loving others

your love engulfed with everyday acts

service, generosity, artistic reciprocity

that was the aura of your love

a heart that loved life and life

loved you right back…

now gone you are from pain and strife

you leave us with your Art-istic life

and we say thank you.

©Glendal Wallace 2025 

To swirl aimlessly in flight

to frolic through luscious green parks

hurriedly flowing city streets, gaze at beautiful castles

whose beauty fails to compare to newly wedded bliss

love deserves

to skip to sounds of morning birds

scurry along cast iron fences

listen pensively to nature’s evening melodies

then stop—at whim—to sit on steps of contemplation

pondering, waiting its next move

Oh yes, love deserves

despite seasons of sadness, sickness, stale days

despite plateaus of poverty, perplexity, painfulness

despite crossing egresses of injury, injustice, indecency

despite treading cobblestones of chaos, cultural divides

despite rolling meadows of misery, misfortune, malice

Love still deserves

to believe all things…hope all things…endure all things

So yes, let love dance—it must

lift its limber arms in praise and adoration

victoriously glide along streets of faith

paved with grace-filled moments

sprinkled with mercies, surprises, passion

yes, let love exude its breathful aura

whisper its tender request

close its eyes, give warm kisses

ooze its playful pheromone

wiggle its feet (if it wants)

for love deserves its dance