if only cats could speak (Troibun) Daily Moments March 26 2019

cats
Kali and Bette playing make believe

Looking at her two bff’s (best feline friends) watching something moving among the decayed leaves, she wondered how life was perceived for her feline friends. They were indoor cats. How does a shut in see the world? Is there curiosity or envy? Is there fear or relief?

Spring dredges us such good feelings of her youth. That first bike ride to school giving her an extra fifteen minutes to skip rope with her peers. The first walk without boots  and feeling so light on her feet. That walk hand in hand with a new crush, feeling nervous and excited at the same time.

Then the reality of her work comes to mind and what takes place behind closed doors, come spring, summer, fall or winter…

spring is in the air
fast cars and motorcycles
sweet scents of freedom

spring is in the air
watching it all come to life
indoor cats just dream

fast cars and motorcycles
kicking up a cloud of dust
April rains will clean

sweet scents of freedom
first loves or devil’s cunnings
too bad cats can’t speak

© Tournesol ‘19-03-26

recalling (haibun) Daily moments March 21, 2019

Ah finally spring has arrived!    Along with the scents of decay and images of black snow melting, there is still hope in the air.  Once the old is washed away, the new will start to thrive.  Trees are starting to form those amazing buds, birds are flying back home, animals are mating, teens and adults falling in love again. It is all so mesmerizing and inspiring.  It is not just new love, new life but also rekindling memories .   That is the beauty of the mind that can wander, imagine and travel back in time that will make you sigh and smile.

 

Image may contain: text

walking in a daze
bedazzled by the chaste moon
recalling his scent

(c) Tournesol ’19/03/21

seasons (5-7-5)

© Clr’15 October
©Clr’18 March

Today I noticed a photo of falling leaves from a poet/artist from Australia and it inspired me to write about it. I find it fascinating to see how our northern and southern hemispheres move in opposite directions as seasons change. It is probably more apparent now that I blog and read poems of different seasons.

 
giving tranquil pause 
days relinquish time to nights 
autumn rests a spell 
 
northern lands in spring 
sun takes over day by day 
melting season’s past 
 
(c) Tournesol '19-03-13

mother & daughter (haibun)

They spent the day in the sun planting seeds of various vegetables. Bent over with their straw hats, mother with her white Ralph Lauren sunglasses, the little three year old in her polka dot sundress and heart shaped sunglasses.

“Ah phew! That’s sure a lot of vegetables, Mommy!”

She beamed at her little helper, “Come, sweetheart, let’s sit in the shade. I`ll bring you a Popsicle.”

Sitting under the old maple tree, her chin in her chubby hand, staring at the garden for a long moment, she asked, “Mommy, when will the green beans start growing?”

“It will take time, sweetheart, about sixty sleeps depending on the weather.”

Obvious disappointment painted on her sun kissed face; she quickly lost interest and ran to play in the sandbox.

rose tipped buds
tender beginnings
nature’s way
one moment in time
coming to flower

©Tournesol’17-02-01

life ~ Troiku daily moments March 12 2019


nature finds its way 
enters like a hungry beast 
casualties of March 
 
nature finds its way 
showers wash winter’s debris 
April’s housekeeping 
 
like a hungry beast 
captivating pheromones 
it’s mating season 
 
casualties of March 
feeding grounds with nutrients 
ends a life cycle    
 
© Tournesol ‘19-03-12 

	

longing (haiku 5-7-5) Daily Moments March 8 2019





soft sounds of longing 
travelling through each brittle branch 
buds can’t wait to burst 
 
soft sounds of longing 
snow is muffling cries below 
impatient tulips 
 
travelling through each branch 
dripping sap to quench their thirst 
maples on my street 
 
buds can’t wait to burst 
Mother Nature sings her song 
“there there, won’t be long 
 
© Tournesol ‘19-03-08 

YOU are special… Celebrate your greatness!

Happy Women’s International Day today!

To be a woman IS wonderful and for years now March 8th    has been designated to celebrate our greatness.  This is not because men are not to be celebrated and it is not even that we, women, want to be compared or measured in any way with men.  Men too are aware of this huge change…for the better, well except for the few who may be bred and wired to think that women are second class citizens but this blog is to celebrate, to praise and a feel good piece, so…

me-at-4ishBeing raised in the 50’s and 60’s, the media portrayed women as passive, mediocre and not always too intelligent human beings.  Oh, but they were glamorous, they could sing, they could dance and boy oh boy they could dress real fine and cook too!  I was fortunate to be raised by my mom and my maternal grandmother. Both women worked!! In the 50’s not many women worked especially in small towns in Quebec.  Being raised by strong willed, nurturing and amazing women, I had good models.

My grandmother, Gervaise Robert Daudelin, was a midwife andgrandmaman-et-grandpapa known as the village nurse.  She was a strong willed women with a huge heart and brilliant mind.  She understood people and they all loved her.  I learned, at a young age, to give back and help my community…not out of religious obligation or guilt but out of compassion.    She was also an amazing cook, had boarders in her home during the depression and during WW 2;   she actually supported the family through tough times but in those days, a woman did it in the shadows.  She was an amazing woman, friend, wife, mother of 7 children and greatest grandmother.  She raised her family and raised my sister and myself and encouraged my mom and taught her that there was life after divorce (another thing that was rare in the mid 60’s in a small French Canadian town).

Colombe (Bette) Daudelin
Colombe (Bette) Daudelin

My mom, Colombe Daudelin, was a beautiful, glamorous and loving women, wife, mom and hairdresser…the latter that taught me just a bit about glamour…my mom, however, had it down pat alright.  She was nicknamed Bette, after Bette Davis as a child and frankly she was much more beautiful than Ms. Davis and had aged much better without any cosmetic surgeries.

She had quit school at 14 to take care of her baby brother and then went on to hairdressing school at The Bay (Hudson Bay at that time).  She devoted her life to pleasing people but she taught me to think of me for a change and have fun.

She supported her family throughout her entire marriage and thereafter.  She blessed me and my children with such joy, spontaneity and her joie de vivre. My kids and grandson talk about “Nanny” with fondness and always with a smile or a chuckle.

Mae Roberts Giroux,
Oakville, On.

My dear aunt, Mae Roberts Giroux, was my father’s sister and she has been an inspiration as well.  She is an amazing artist and wonderful person.  Her passion is  art since she was a child having gone to École des Beaux Arts throughout her youth yet denied to further her studies because  in art because “women just did not do that then!”  Women in the 40s and 50s could go into teaching, nursing or definitely secretarial.  So Aunt Mae put her dream of being artist on hold for a few decades.

Speaking of secretaries, they were largely men who performed these duties, before male management realised they could get a woman to do the same job for less than half the salary.  My father was a secretary with Canadian Pacific Railway years ago before women were hired to do it for much cheaper.

Aunt Mae raised 3 boys and returned to the Ontario College of Art in Toronto to get her art degree in her 40`s. I admire her determination and her talent.

Her husband encouraged her and he too was a man way ahead of his times…being a nurturer as well and having faith in his wife.  Both have inspired me in so many ways.  They encouraged me to risk change and believe in myself.

Of course I was also influenced by amazing women growing up like Dr. Marie Curie, my grade school teacher, Mrs. Grant, in high school, Sister Dufferin,  Professors Marilyn Taylor, Mia Lobel and Pauline Gross from Concordia University.  My mentors are many such as Selma Corobow (former Family Life Educator and manager CLSC Metro, Montreal), Dianne Goodyear who taught me to believe in myself and to trust my instincts (Family Life Educator), Diane Richard, a friend (Social Worker) and mentor who believed in me sometimes more than I did; Of course I have amazing friends, women who have enriched my life and taught me so much and I have learned from as many in my age group as from younger friends.  Wonderful women like Rolande, Huguette, Annette, Dominique, Debbie, Maria, Michelle, France, Beatrice, Jenns (there are 4!), Pat, Jay, Pascale, Sara, Margie, Nicole, Peggy,  Cécile, Jane and Joyce, Giséle, Janice, Donna, Valérie, Marie-Hélène, Judith, Sue, Kathie, Shelly, Sandy, Lise (2), Louise, Ghislaine, Karen, Denise, Pauline and many more many more.

 

art by Mae Roberts Giroux,
Oakville, On.

So pay tribute to YOU first and foremost, to the wonderful woman you are and share a bit of that special person that YOU are so your “specialness” can carry on.

© Cheryl-Lynn Roberts, March 8, 2019

To view Mae Giroux’s Art check on her facebook page  https://www.facebook.com/mae.giroux/photos

sighs of sweet content (troiku) daily moments

blue skies
sun rays beaming hope
sighs of springtime

blue skies
billows move in tandem
winter’s softest breeze

sun rays beaming hope
looking winter in the eye
walking on thin ice

sighs of springtime
tapping giant maples
where sweetness flows

© Tournesol ‘19-03-04

Winter s captive Daily Moments March 1 2019

Day 7,
silent chisels fill her head
ears that cannot hear

winter cold and flu
mockingly whisper
“Ha Ha, I got you!!

sleepless nights
coughing
chasing germs away

hope is in the air
taste slowly returns
first cup of java

© Tournesol ‘10/03/01

Daily Moments March 1, 2019 winter’s captive

silent sighs in the night (troiku)

Inspired by the haiku of a talented poet/haijin,  Celestine Nundanu.

moonlit night
a shooting star fades
into sounds of silence © Celestine Nundanu ‘19-03-01

moonlit night
lovers skate on frozen pond
tracing figure eights

a shooting star fades
in abyss of ecstasy
echoes from her lips

into sounds of silence
nestled gently
on virgin snow

(c) Tournesol ’19/03/01

The river flows (haibun)

Patient river flows

Rich and fertile

Ever slowly

After reading a chapter from a friend’s book on her years of trying to have a child filled with losses, disappointments, frustrations, self-denigration to a miracle, I was inspired to go over my own journey. Of course I did not suffer like so many women have and do to have a family but I do remember my personal hopes and desires to become a mom…

Motherhood

God’s gift to humanity

Perfect miracle

I remember when I felt ready to start a family. We had married young. I was a 19 year old bride, having married my teenage sweetheart I had met at 15. He was just 21. Our marriage started on rocky grounds but when the paths seemed smoother, I felt ready. I still don’t know why I changed my mind since going back to university to get my degree had always been on my mind but my body was begging for something different. And why not, I thought to myself. Most of my friends were just getting out of university and starting their careers but my new friends I made had started from the age of 18 to 24 years old. So I guess there was no right or wrong here but what suited each person…in a unique way. For me, my biological clock was ticking, oh so early, and yet, it was blocking the sounds of logic and long lost career dreams. I could become a teacher or counsellor later, that’s all. What did I have to complain about? At 22 I was working for the CEOs of a multi-million dollar steel company? People dreamed to get so far at a much older age…and so my journey began.

The first two years, I blamed my inability to conceive to those damn contraceptive pills. They were so damn strong in the ‘70’s! Women were such guinea pigs in the ‘60’s and ‘70’s on so many levels. And we continued to hand over our bodies and minds (how my mother was exploited with her mind and stuffed with valium). In those days, most doctors did not listen to women but they shut them up with pills.

After over a year I started getting hormone shots. The doctor never explained how this might affect my moods…you did not dare ask too many questions then either…and so I endured the shots and discomfort it gave me in my thigh and my legs. After several rounds of shots and multiple “negative” pregnancy tests, I was almost ready to give up.

Let’s step back a moment to talk about those tests. There were not any home pregnancy tests then…at least I was not aware of it and I would go to the same pharmacy because monsieur Lasalle had such a sympathetic face when he would come back to whisper to me discreetly with a sympathetic look on his face, tilting his head to the side, “C’est négatif, chère madame.”

The first few times, I was disappointed but since this Pharmacie was in the town where I worked, I was able to busy myself in my work.

Another year went by and I could not understand what was going on. Everyone was telling me that I thought about it too much. Some would laugh about it. One of my good friends who also happened to be my friend and HR manager at work told me her story. She had tried to conceive for 10 years and finally she and her husband gave up and planned a trip to Western Canada. When she returned she was pregnant. Moral of that story, according to every friggin busybody who pissed me off was that you just have to relax and stop worrying. I was so angry that everyone was blaming my mind and worry nature (GAD was not a term anyone used at that time) for not conceiving. My mind, apparently, was controlling my body, my ovaries, my womb. Fine! I was getting frustrated. When I would see a woman who was pregnant walking on the street, I started crossing the street to not cross paths with this fertile queen. It made me feel so sorry for myself. I was a mess.

Then I heard from our local CLSC (Local Service Community Clinic) that some women were using the Billing’s Method as a natural contraceptive. Hmmm, that might be interesting to take my temperature every morning to see when I DO ovulate. So when most women knew, “tonight is too dangerous”, my motto had begun, “Tonight is the night!” I still do not understand why the first doctor I saw never suggested I do this to understand my cycle. I had never been regular…it was always 35 to 56 to 65 to 90 days between cycles. I was quite ignorant but slowly began to take things in my own hands to get to know my body better. Lord only knows my maternal GrandMaman who was midwife tried to explain to me how to examine myself to see the difference when I was ovulating but I just did not get it.

Within six months I learned that I always ovulated between 14 to 18 days from the first day of my periods. Well, now, there is something consistent here. I also learned to see how the lines on this temperature graph would stay up and steady for severe days and weeks (sometimes) and then dip suddenly when I started my period. Alrighty now, there is a plan of action on my part here. I felt a bit more in control. I knew when was the most optimal time to conceive!

A year and a half passed with no success. My husband refused to even discuss adoption so I finally decided to go to a fertility clinic. It was interesting to see the people waiting in the waiting room. Everyone seemed so quiet and even a bit self-conscious or perhaps I was projecting my own feelings of inadequacy. I was only 27 but already felt a decade older. That year, I decided to go back to school and took two courses in English literature just to see if I was smart enough to pursue further studies for a degree.

The doctor suggested my husband take the first test since it the most least invasive…just spilling his seeds in a jar seemed quite harmless compared to the poking and prodding women went through. He felt embarrassed but for once, I was sort of happy that he was finally participating in this chapter of our lives. We learned that his sperm count was slow and low, whatever the heck that means. Yet, they said it was not a reason for my not conceiving after I had shown the doctor my ovulating graph.

The doctor examined me from head to toe and when he noticed I had colostrum leaking quite easily from my breasts when he squeezed them a little, he had me hospitalized a few weeks later. Two whole weeks of resident doctors wanting to probe me, squeeze my breasts and then murmur to the side with serious looks on their faces. I was a wreck by the end of the first week and lost 10 pounds. My roommate told me I was allowed to refused to be touched by these doctors since their teacher had already performed several examinations in front of them. So the next time one doctor came up to me to squeeze my breasts, I said NO. He asked, “How are we to learn since this is a teaching hospital?” I still did not budge and simply responded, “You were there when Dr…..performed an examination yesterday. Have you forgotten already?!” I was sore and tired of feeling like a lab rat.

I still did not quite understand why so much blood was taken out of me daily and one day over twenty times in a special unit where there was another girl next to me. I told her excitedly, “I’m here to pass test to get pregnant!” When I asked her why she was here as she seemed so young, I was shocked and confused. “Oh, they’re checking to see about a tumour on my brain.” My mouth dropped…I was passing the exact same tests!

Apparently my doctor felt this must be checked before any further fertility procedures since he felt my pituitary gland was overactive, hence the colostrum easily leaking form my breasts. It took several weeks to get the results but all was well, the doctor announced and I would be going for the real “tests” after the Christmas holidays.

That summer we had planned our first trip abroad. We had never taken an airplane or gone any further than road trips to the Maritimes and New England states. My husband wanted to visit Germany and Austria but I wanted to visit my roots…England, Scotland and Wales where my paternal grandfather was born and gee, wouldn’t it be nice if we conceived in the UK? Okay, it was obviously still on my mind.

What a perfect trip to take since I had finally gone back to school and taking Introduction to English Literature at Concordia University. I had to know first if I passed this course if I was smart enough or college material still at my age.

On our trip we visited Lake District and William Wordsworth’s cottage, Shakespeare’s house and so many places where famous writers and poets had lived.

We also became closer to one couple on our tour that came from Montreal. They were about our parents’ age and they suggested we purchase a home now before the prices go up even more. And so upon our return from this trip, we decided to purchase a home that would be ready the following summer. Since we were both working, it was time to do something with our lives besides trying to have a. baby. And if I did get pregnant, we would be ready with a home.

The holidays passed and no news from the hospital yet. There was a long waiting list. I was still taking my temperature every day, just in case. This time I wanted to save the money for useless pregnancy tests. If the graph showed differently only then, would I take an other test. My neighbour downstairs was four months pregnant and she told me she thought I was as well. She kept saying my eyes were different and so sparkly. I really didn’t want to believe this and be disappointed with a negative test again. She promised to come with me and so the following morning we did go…the pharmacist comes over to me saying the test was “Positif”. I could not believe it! I asked him to repeat it and then asked him to write it on my receipt…POSITIF so I could show this to my husband.

I was so excited that my hands and legs were shaking so much, I could not drive yet so for several long minutes, my friend and I were giggling like silly teenage girls in the car and waited for my shaking to stop. I will never forget that moment…EVER. Just like I will not forget the morning we were in our new home and the basement was flooding and my husband was so irritated. But I had a big goofy smile…it was June 1978 and I felt the movement of my baby bouncing around inside my womb. I could feel life inside of me!

After seven years of marriage, the seventh grandchild in the family, our beautiful eight pound baby boy was born.

The universe smiles

Bonding with her bundle of joy

Blue eyed treasure

© Tournesol ‘19/02/23

Winter daybed (troiku) Daily Moments Feb 23/19

honey ginger
scent of peppermint
lingers on her lips

honey ginger
battling winter germs
always on duty

scent of peppermint
opens pathways
breathing with ease

lingers on her lips
oh for the memories!
that sweet first kiss

Daily moments Feb 23rd 2019 winter daybed

© Tournesol 2019/02/23

So much more than an uncle (haibun)

I was away when my cousin was kind enough to phone me about the sad news but I had to write about it…will add photos when I get back home.

He was a father and a friend, a comforter and a teacher but most of all he was my protector since I was a very young child.

I grew up looking up to this handsome “James Dean” lookalike. I followed him everywhere when I could even when he was with his girlfriends. One winter night, it was a full moon and he decided to go out skating with his new girlfriend on the river behind the house. They both invited me to join them. How naïve I was to follow these two lovers but I did and I loved them both even more for it.

One Father’s Day, my sister and I bought him a necktie. He looked so shy and awkward and all he could say was, “But I’m not your father.” That year my parents had temporarily separated, so what did we know, right? Thinking about that now, it must have been odd for a 17 yr old to be looked up to as a father! Ah, kids!

I remember when I was very young before I went to school, my mother punished me for being rude and impatient with my GrandPapa. I responded to him just like my father used to talk to me when he was impatient. My mother probably knew where this was coming from and wanted me to learn that it was not acceptable. She sent me to my uncle’s bedroom to sit there until she felt I had learned. As I was walking to the bedroom, I still remember seeing my GrandPapa rocking in his chair in the living room and smiling at me. I knew then, he had forgiven me.

I sat on my Uncle Bernie’s bed and cried. I did not like being shut in and of course, I just felt sorry for little old me! My uncle came in and sat on the bed next to me and looked so uncomfortable seeing me cry. He offered me a WHOLE dime to stop crying! Now you have to understand that a dime bought a lot for a child my age! I could get a bag of chips and five gum balls!

I remember watching him from the kitchen at GrandMaman’s when he would be getting ready to go out…probably on a date. He smelled so good of Old Spice! My grandmother and he would argue like mothers sometimes do with their older teenager. He must have been about 19 because GrandPapa had already died. Poor Bernie, having lost his father so young. GrandPapa was the best father and grandfather on the planet…no, really!

I remember when I was still quite young and my uncle had seen me trying to take a cigarette from GrandMaman’s pack. I was only about 6! I know, how bad is that?! I loved the smell of fresh tobacco and especially the scent of pipe tobacco. (Uncle Bernie would add a piece of apple in his tobacco pouch to keep it moist but I think it also gave it that nice aroma too.} Anyway, Bernie, lit a cigarette and blew smoke on a tissue to show me the colour it turned into and warned me that that was what would happen to my lungs if ever I smoked. I knew he was worried for me. Yeah, well I did still smoke eventually for three decades. And every time he saw me as an adult, he would say, “You are still smoking…you know it’s not in style anymore, right?”

I remember his wedding so well. I was 14 years old. I had just become a woman that morning (and you ladies all know what that means). I felt so grown-up that day! Later, when I was 17, his wife, Denise and he asked me to be the baby carrier for their first born, Annie’s christening. I felt so proud. I used to babysit Annie since I lived next door at GrandMaman’s. Aunt Denise would ask me what I wanted to get paid for babysitting and I said, a bottle of Pepsi and BBQ chips was fine with me. I would sleep in Annie’s bedroom next to her crib and I loved being awakened by her smiles and cooing. That was the first time I experienced what it was like to wake up with a beautiful baby.

That same year I got engaged. I know, so young and my family were not too pleased but Uncle Bernie and Aunt Denise bought me my first set of sheets for our engagement that Christmas. I felt I had bonded with my Aunt Denise, that year.

Uncle Bernie walked me down the aisle on my wedding day. I felt so proud having him by my side. My legs kept shaking and he kept whispering to me to calm down. It helped, since I was just fine by the time I got to the altar but my husband was the one who seemed dumbstruck.

That year he taught me how to drive. My husband tired but that always ended in tears since he would get too impatient. Uncle Bernie trusted me and I know I did not drive that well but he gave me the impression I was fine. I finally got my license when I was 20.

One spring day my car stalled on a country road. There were no cell phones then. I remember walking to a house nearby and calling him to tell me what I should do. He came over and got on the wet cold ground and temporarily fixed what was wrong (I still have no clue what it was) and told me to go see his friend who was a mechanic, who had a garage, to have it fixed right away. What did I tell you? He was my protector!

A few years later I moved just a half hour away but I would see him less and less by then…life went on, I guess and he was such a homebody. He welcomed everyone to his home but never accepted my dinner invitations. I understood though. My uncle was the type of person who was always used to giving.

When I would visit with my children, he would tell me to let them be kids and have fun. He had lots of property at his home and he noticed that I worried too much. My kids…well, especially, my son, loved the freedom running around there. And we all loved Aunt Denise’s fudge. We would call her to say we were coming over and she would have the fresh warm fudge ready by the time we got there!

Time went by…life happened all too quickly and I moved six hours away. I was lucky to see him when I came down to see my mother. He always checked up on her to see if she was okay.

He was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s the same year my mother was diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia. It was sad to see him when he visited my mom because he was surely seeing himself slip away eventually.

He passed just before Valentines, early morning on February 13, 2019.

May he rest In peace and tease my mom and all his siblings now. (Jan. 4 1940 – Feb. 13, 2019)

Another petal
How he will be missed
Has fallen

Another star
Twinkling in the sky
His winning smile

Another angel
A welcome committee
For me

© Tournesol 19/02/17

Goodbye Mr. Monk Troibun Daily Moments

I am going to miss this show. I used to watch it when it first came out when I lived in Toronto. At that time, it just felt too weird watching a man who had similar behaviours that one of my colleagues had. Granted, Mr. Monk’s were more exaggerated but I remember how this particular colleague got on the nerves of many of my peers. He was sweet….no, not Mr. Monk, but my colleague but like Mr. Monk he bordered on annoying, brilliant and absolutely frustrating.

So a month ago I started binging on Mr. Monk’s 8 seasons on Netflix. I laughed, cried, connected and warmed up to this guy in so many ways. Last night was my last episode and I am saddened to have had to say goodbye yet, knew it was time. There are just so many more you can add to his situation of chasing the murderer of his wife, Trudy.

I loved that guy and everyone associated with him. It is a great show on detective work and mostly on tolerance and true friendship.

So tonight, I decided to write a blurb to say Goodbye, Mr. Monk, you will be missed.

routines 
obsessive patterns 
dependable 
 
routines 
repetitive 
safety in numbers 
 
obsessive patterns 
annoying rituals 
yet comforting 
 
dependable 
always accountable 
Goodbye Mr. Monk 
 
© tournesol ‘19-02-05

same old, same old (troiku) daily moments Feb 2, 2019

Another snowy day
winter enthusiasts cheer
others read

another snowy day
low on coffee cream
trapped inside

winter enthusiasts cheer
shut-ins chanting
same old same old

others read
barefoot on sandy beaches
sun kissed cheeks

 

(c) Tournesol ’19-02-02

seeking downy comfort (troibun)

Sleep...that is what she seeks, 
sleep ...that is what she needs 
fall into oblivion 
crib of downy comfort 
sleep...that is what she seeks 
sleep...that is what she needs 
finally at the crack of dawn 
just before those early chirps 
eyelids sealing shut... 
 
 
running aimlessly 
breathing heavily 
strangers in the night 
 
running aimlessly 
hear the sounds of heathens 
searching for the light 
 
breathing heavily 
lethal  inhalations 
fill her lungs with sin 
 
strangers in the night 
flee as she awakens 
nightmares now begin 
 

Image may contain: cat


 
waiting patiently 
steady purring heals the soul 
nature, at its best

(c) Tournesol '19/01/25

does the universe even care?

mid-season blues 
like summer draughts that bring despair 
does the universe even care? 
 
summer love that has to end 
saying goodbye in September 
broken hearts and stolen dreams 
lovers mourn in muted screams 
wishing they would not remember 
 
autumn in its amber shades 
masking truths too hard to bear 
does the universe even care? 
 
school becomes a new distraction 
mothers scrimping for more pennies 
children’s shoes will not endure 
humbled with their meagre meal 
peanut butter spread too thin 
 
mid-season blues 
like summer draughts that bring despair 
does the universe even care? 
 
October ends in farce and fury 
poverty clothed in Halloween 
witches taunting mockingly  
nary a princess or a queen 
dreading winter, parents worry 
 
mid-season blues 
like summer draughts that bring despair 
does the universe even care? 
 
December heaves a downy blanket 
void of presents and empty cupboards 
January weighs a thousand woes 
hungry bellies and frozen toes 
housing they cannot afford 
 
mid-season blues 
like summer draughts that bring despair 
does the universe even care? 
 
social services cannot keep up 
greedy leaders just turn away 
their pockets lined with children's dreams 
parents working night and day 
politics drowning all their screams 
 
mid-season blues 
like summer draughts that bring despair 
does the universe even care? 
 
blindly seeking for a break 
depression hovers constantly 
winter nearing to an end 
melancholy lurking silently 
hiding spring’s utopia 
 
mid-season blues 
like summer draughts that bring despair 
does the universe even care? 
 
bound in darkness and despair 
breaking through with fiery rage 
some may find an ounce to share 
fill them with ample courage 
reaching out to one who cares 
 
mid-season blues 
like summer draughts that bring despair 
someone out there really cares! 
 
© Cheryl-Lynn  ‘19-01-23  
http://www.crisisservicescanada.ca/en/  Adults  1-833-456-4566 
For residents in Quebec 1-866-APPELLE   (1-866-277-3553) 
 
Kids Help Phone – Jeunesse Jécoute - Youths and young adult 
www.kidshelpphone.ca  www.jeunessejecoute.ca  1 800 668 6868  
 
USA https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/  1-800-273-8255 

snow, another four-letter word (Daily Moments January 23. 2019 Haibun )

It is amazing how much literature there is on the lack of sunlight and darkness affects moods and yet there does not seem to be as much on seeing ONLY WHITE F&$&ing snow. The skies are grey today and yet the brightness of the snow still makes her eyes squint and adds to the jackhammer in her head. It is said that January 21st is the most depressing day of the year. How interesting that it may be the most depressing but that does not mean that the following day it has disappeared. No siree, it lags on and on and on and lurks into February and depression infecting each day forward.

Today, she squints as she looks out the window, debating if she should go out to do some errands which would entail, getting dressed (winterizing with coat, boots, scarf, ski mask, snow pants, gloves or mitts and cleats) to the bus stop, waiting in the wind, avoiding cars splashing the slush on sidewalks and repeating the same thing on her return. It is like shampooing one’s hair: shampoo, rinse, repeat.

Fortunately, today it is a balmy –5C so she can lose the snow pants, ski mask and mitts. What a joy! It is snowing today and she stands at the corner feeling her cheeks blush with each kiss.

“Crunch, Crunch” her boots moan as she approaches destination. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, she feels a shift in her mood and knows that this brief but effective exercise has fired neurotransmitters that are lifting her spirits. She sighs thinking of those who suffer so much especially this time of year and the risks that may entail…

mid-season blues 
like summer draughts bring despair 
in the dead of winter 
 
blindly seeking respite  
from the wrath of depression 
 
treading warily 
on grief’s temptation 
veering such demise 
 
bundling up with courage 
some may make that phone call 
 
hearing in that voice 
caring and supportive 
may give life a chance 
 
© Tournesol ‘19-01-23

pure addictions. Troiku. Daily Moments Jan 19/19

Sitting in her late mother’s rocking recliner, she pets her black cat gently. The silky fir feels  nice to her touch and the more she takes pleasure in stroking her tiny head and slender body she feels her heart beating slower. The loud steady vibrations of the purring is making her smile.

It’s like getting a booster shot of valium,, a third glass of wine or a few tokes of MJ. The lightheaded feeling makes her smile again and she admires that sweet innocence of her one year old cat.

She feels blessed. Her other cat with her hypnotic eyes also comfort her. She is truly a lucky woman.

Soft silkiness
Chasing worries away
Soothing purrs

Soft silkiness
Scent of a newborn
Melting all hearts

Chasing worries away
Effective and addictive
Like a drug

Soothing purrs
Nature’s gift
To mankind

© Tournesol ‘19/01/19 Daily moments pure addictions. Troiku

hidden secrets (troiku)

Street Art, de Gaspé, Montréal, Qc. – Cheryl-Lynn

mysteries of the mind
seeking insights
cobwebs

mysteries of the mind
hidden in a maze
only spirits see

seeking insights
muted melodies
and pleading mantras

cobwebs
heart murmurs
holding secrets

© Tournesol ‘19-01-18

emerald bliss (haiga ~troiku)

nature’s grace 
  looking out my window 
    emerald bliss 
 
nature’s grace 
 genuine and refined 
   best feline friend 
 
looking out my window 
   only she can see 
     ghosts of my past 
 
emerald bliss 
  healing every fibre 
     of my soul 
 
© Tournesol ‘19-01-18 
 

Dear Emma, (January 17 2019 ~ lucid dreams) Haibun

breastfeeding nightmare
infants waiting in the queue
sucking me dry

Dear Emma,

I called in sick today, on this 17th day of January 2019. Every joint screamed with pain. As I tried to get back to sleep, I said to myself for the first time in 18 and a half years, “I hate my job!” Just saying it to myself was a shock! You see I am the type of person that talks out loud in my mind. When I read, I talk out loud in my mind. That’s why it takes me forever to read but I read a lot so I guess I have gotten over this attribute about me.

Two weeks ago, I had difficult calls during the week of New Year’s two days in a row. Yep, call after call after call after Live Chat I heard about child physical abuse, child sexual abuse, child neglect and suicide, suicide and more suicide. That last Monday was so heavy that on the following Thursday, I did not feel the energy to go to work without throwing up. Yep, all the shit was stuck in my throat and I was afraid to open my mouth.

This past Sunday and Monday were a bit better since it was not the holiday season anymore but still. Last Monday, I ended my shift with a long 2 hour suicide call which was the third suicide call of the shift. I tried to nonchalantly chat but not requesting to debrief. I had my coat and boots on and just skimmed through parts of that call because I was also pleased that I gave something to this caller…hope. Although chatting about it nonchalantly, as if this was just sharing, I know now, was wrong. I should have debriefed privately to help me process how I felt before leaving home for two days off. Two days of allowing the suffering to fester inside of me.

I wished I had benefits to process this therapeutically with a professional but anyone over 65 is cut off from this support. Another bad employer policy…not supporting the hand that feeds the service.

This morning I woke up several times snoozing my alarm over and over and over until I finally decided that was it today! After I said those words in my head…um, I can’t repeat it here again but you just have to scroll up to the first paragraph…I felt so many emotions. I was sad, angry, frustrated, shocked and really did not want to feel anything. I wanted to roll over and get back to sleep. I got up to let my black cat, Kali, out of her room (my guest room) and made myself a cup of earl grey and came back to bed. I tried to watch a sitcom “Grace Under Fire” but my mind was still spinning. Kali jumped into bed with me and curled up in the curve of my arm and purred so loud, it finally put me to sleep.

When I woke up, Bette, my older friend, a Siberian Mix feline, was sleeping next to me. She never cuddles though. She has issues of space, contact and feeling trapped. I really enjoy her company, nonetheless as she has improved over the years and frankly, if you see her, you would have to admit, she looks like a queen. She is that beautiful!

I felt this way last year too and it was because I was refused time off to rest emotionally from my too demanding job. I had tried to avoid this from happening again this year. I had taken 10 days off in February last year and that helped my mind and soul but my body took months and months to catch up. I planned a summer of lots of time off and saved a week to take during Christmas week.

Unfortunately, the people who count our allowable time off made a huge mistake by 10 days! Yep, so by mid-summer, I was told that I could take 5 of the days I had reserved without pay in August and that was that. I knew December would be a problem. In the past 10 years, I rarely worked during the holidays because I needed to recuperate from demands of my type of work and wanted to see family and friends. In the past three years, however, I no longer even see anyone…I am that drained. I see family Christmas Day and then hibernate in my home, sleeping, writing, reading and vegging on Netflix.

I had reserved 10 days off in February this year, again but without the Christmas break time off, I did not know how much I would be able to endure before cracking. So many of my peers were taking time off, and too many had already quit. That revolving door would NOT stop spinning and as much as I try to give hope and a positive attitude at work, I could feel something I have treasured for decades was sinking into an abyss deep inside the confines of my soul. Nothing shows on the outside. I think that I still look more or less like passionate for the cause, lady, but I am struggling to keep this up.

I have never taken a job JUST for the salary. I know, I know, that may sound unbelievable but for me, it is the position and work environment that has always drawn me. I have left better paying positions to move onto positions where I could grow ; it is sort of like going to school and getting paid. I remember leaving the corporate world to stay home for a few years and type court recordings until my kids went to school.

Going back to college and taking a job as personal support worker; working in the helping field is so fulfilling. Leaving a high paying sales position to finally work full-time as a youth counsellor. Passions filled are bonuses that feed the heart and ensures employee retention. Granted we have gone through many changes and the goals have not changed but the means have. I have always felt when a workplace no longer meets the needs of an employee, it is time to seriously think of moving on. For now the service is still my passion but how long will I be able to swim without a floater?

Today, I admitted something quite frightening and I hope it is JUST the emotional fatigue talking and not a sad reality.

breastfeeding nightmare

infants waiting in the queue

sucking me dry

© Tournesol ‘19-01-17

Daily Moments – lucid dreams haibun

Daily Moments January 14, 2019 dancing diamonds

Walking to work she treads carefully on the slippery path to work.  Certain areas are covered with a thin layer of white crust that catches her eye  and warms her heart.
 
 
Diamonds  
Scores on a backdrop 
dancing underfoot 
 
Diamonds 
Beauty frozen in time 
Giggling on snow 
 
Scores on a backdrop 
Floating in the cosmos 
Granting wishes 
 
Dancing underfoot 
Despite the freezing cold 
Blinding baby blues 
 
© Tournesol ‘19-01-14 
 
Daily Moments January 14, 2019  dancing diamonds   
 
 
 
 
 

sighs of powerlessness ~ Troibun

After snoozing the alarm four times, she rolls over and greets her bff, petting her thick soft fur and whispering “I love you’s”. She then finally rises to the challenge of another new work week. Shuffling to her other bff, she opens the door to the guest room and hears the joyful purrs and meows this unique creature has. Her name is Kali. She runs up to her big, fluffy sister, Bette and is greeted with a hiss. No problem, little Kali seems to be thinking and she runs to her mistress for a pet and then lies on her tummy stretching her front paws about a metre distant from Big Sis and waits for some sign that maybe today will be the day they will play…such a patient little thing!

It is amusing to watch these two felines as she runs a hot bath to oil her old joints and then she moves on to the morning REAL priority: starting the coffee and feeding the cats.

Another week is starting and she tries very hard not think about it. Although she loves the support she offers, she is finding less comfort in the environment which no longer seems to shed enough light. She can literally hear the grumbling from within her peers’ body language and darkness hovering over their heads…

 

relentless 
deafening screams within
daunting reminders
 
relentless
dark clouds casting shadows
foreboding
 
deafening screams within
hearing their disturbing tales
smothered in despair
 
daunting reminders
exhaling melancholy
sighs of helplessness
 
© Tournesol ‘19/01/13
 
bff means best feline friend.

passions decay (haiku – troiku)

(c) Clr Avaric Desert
chocolate cheese cake 
monarch butterfly 
senses’ delights 
 
scents 
newborn baby’s skin 
lavender fields 
 
baby’s first step 
receiving that first degree 
very first pay-cheque 
 
sandy beach 
mind lulling waves 
quenching mojitos 
 
innocent flirting 
high school puppy love 
that very first kiss 
 
finding your passion 
purpose in life 
spirit swells 
 
advocate 
nurturer and supporter 
heart-filled endeavours 
 
time after time 
demands overflow
tsunami destroys 
 
slowly  
spirits 
drown 
 
     passions die 
        remnants left to decay 
           Avarice desert 
 
passions die 
spirits crushed 
brittle and futile 
 
         remnants left to decay 
     corporate poisonous concepts 
            disease of our times 
 
avarice desert 
confused yet generated 
tower of Babel 

(c) Tournesol '19-01-11


 
 

dreaming of springtime (troibun)

© Clr’17

The cold, oh the bitter cold sinks into her bones. The icy streets on her way home make her shuffle like an old lady. Always fearing another fall, she leans tentatively on her cane.

(troiku)

dreaming of springtime
lilacs and cherry blossoms
budding promise

dreaming of springtime
lovers walking hand in hand
kissing under big oak trees

lilacs and cherry blossoms
a butterfly’s delight
scents of her youth

budding promise
garden weddings
happily ever after

(c) Tournesol ’19/01/06

Daily Moments January 6 2019 dreaming of springtime Troibun

Malignant wings

Tread lightly on my broken wings,
Now pitiful but once were proud (c) Cubby at Reowr


my spirit once was very bright
commanding and illuminate

my wings were just an afterthought
my life-force from the spirit world

floating like a lunar spaceship
meditating on nameless planets

wings were just an ornament
flying force comes from within

heavenly gods fed my passion
nothing ever weighed me down

until the winds from planet earth
spread human greed and malice

my spirit died and crushed my wings
where once were oh so very proud

(c) Cheryl-Lynn ’19/01.06

Written for Cubby’s challenge at Reowr: Broken Wings

day’s end (Reowr challenge: Murmur)

The ocean murmurs to the beach
And all the grains of sand © Cubby at Reowr


giggling with sheer delight
dancing with a gentle breeze

hear the horns and bells echo
fishing boats docking with ease

seagulls standing still… stoic
on the soggy darkened beach

rapt in wonder… oh, setting star!
orange, pinks and reds afar

blending into amethyst
gentle splash of rolling waves

hoot of an owl, telling time
islanders all heading home

© Cheryl-Lynn ‘19/01/06

© Cheryl-Lynn ‘19/01/06

Written to complete the first two lines of a poem by Cubby at Reowr.com

Dreams (troiku)

Dreams like water-colored paintings 
Wash away when days are raining © Cubby at Reowr 
 
 
vibrant colours bleed 
spilling on green blades 
sinking in the soil 
 
vibrant colours bleed 
echoing cries and screams 
disappearing fears 
 
spilling on green blades 
red and green and silvery tints 
like dressing up a tree 
 
sinking in the soil 
scary images traced with joy 
making worms go wild 
 
© Tournesol ‘ 19/01/06 
 
We are asked to complete the first two lines from Cubby’s poem.
I have completed it with a troiku which is a new form of haiku created 
by Chevrefeuille at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai. 
It is also one of my favourite forms. 

Prompt: Reowr – Dreams
 
 

back to work (free verse)

Painting by Mae Giroux, Oakville, On. (my dear aunt)

 
she must get to sleep! 
in less than an hour 
bloody birds will peep 
chirping away with joy 
waiting for a new dawn 
but, 
for an insomniac 
their fervor makes  her yawn 
sometimes make her go mad! 
 
still 
she must sleep 
in four hours the alarm will buzz 
grating at her every pore 
beep beep beep beep beep 
annoying bleeping clock! 
 
today she returns to work 
a five day break she took 
away from tears 
away from pain 
away from fears 
abusive grownups 
hurting them in vain 
controlling 
and narcissistic 
crushing their spirits 
killing all their hopes 
sometimes they want to die 
it seems 
their only way  
out of such misery... 
 
unless 
 
they, I, together 
we choose  
another plan 
they’ll live on one condition 
those grownup bleepers  
will be reported 
 
the cops will come 
and bring their troops 
youth workers and the like 
 
 
and yet, 
 
more time will run its course 
over days and weeks and months 
until this youth is safe 
from physical, 
sexual 
and emotional wrath 
 
but n’er from her bad dreams 
and not from all her wounds 
no, indeed that takes 
an entire lifetime 
she’ll start the healing process 
a little bit here and there 
a break for a while 
trying to ignore the pain 
reprieve from all those memories 
 
and on and on it goes 
the victim pays a lifetime 
assailant n’er long enough 
 
who said life’s even fair? 
the wounded try to mend 
their broken and bruised souls 
abusers lick their wounds 
playing victim of their sins 
who said life’s even fair?

...one last yawn,
reciting her 3 Hail Mary's
an Act of Contrition
and prays for a better day.
(c) Cheryl-Lynn '19/01/06

Road trips (troiku – daily moments Jan 5, 2019)

(c) OliGagnon 2003
Remembering long ago short family road trips. They had little to say after so many years. The hum of the motor slowly put the children in the back seat to sleep and she was left with her thoughts. She would make up movies in her head where she was another person, vibrant and confidant.

remembering 
family drives 
country roads 
 
remembering 
searching 
from her  window 
 
family drives
muted journeys
movies in her head 
 
country roads 
fields of wild flowers 
endless possibilities 
 
 
© Tournesol ‘19/01/05 
 
Daily Moments January 5 2019  Road Trips 
 
 
 

Remembering (troibun) Daily Moments Jan 5/19

It’s 1950 something…

She was always a daydreamer ever since a young child. As she grew up she would change the endings of movies she had seen and create different scenarios. Life is like that! Movies hold only one script of a possibility.

Imagine if fathers would clean the house, cook the meals, do the laundry, shop at the grocery store, bring the children to the doctor and tuck them in! Mothers would come home after a long day at work greeted by their husband holding a chilled glass of white wine or maybe a cup of tea.

Imagine if fathers walked the children to school and talked to the teacher when they had belly aches or that boy kept pulling her hair! Imagine if fathers sat patiently at the kitchen table helping children learn their ABC’s!

Such a silly dream she had in the 1950’s but it would have been a nice change to see.

 
tripping 
falling down the stairs 
who kissed the boo boo? 
 
tripping 
Daddy catches her 
before she falls 
 
falling down the stairs 
someone pushed her 
heart aches more than flesh
 
who kissed the boo boo 
waking up to reality 
mothers know best

© Tournesol ‘19/01/05 
Daily Moments January 5 2019   Remembering  Troibun

That damn wall again (troiku)

There comes a time
helpers of lost souls
hitting a wall

there comes a time
universe sends a warning
to slow down

helpers of lost souls
sometimes lose direction
maze of great pain

hitting a wall
forcing one to stop
practicing self-care

(c) Tournesol 19/01/02

Daily Moments – That damn wall again – Troiku January 2, 2019

catch-up not ketchup (troibun)

2018 started with residues of 2017 months to heal the soul by the ocean in California and the soul slowly mended. Yet, the body takes so much longer to heal.  This was a year of change, negotiating her first collective agreement…something she never thought she would ever take part in but thinking of her peers, she wanted to give as much as she could to these angels who make a difference in the lives of  youths and heroes of the night. 

Positive change is on the rise comingled with a tsunami of service demands.  Let’s try to focus on the positive changes and see how they can manage the flood of demands a wee bit better.

The summer was blessed with a trip to Mexico celebrating the promise of forever love between her son and his new bride. A beach wedding and dining by the ocean at sunset.  How can one not embrace life and love!?

Here we are the last day of 2018 and she still feels like she is playing catch-up.  2018, a year of shedding tears, not enough to fill an ocean but certainly enough to fill a lake, a river or pond. She wonders how fresh water fish could thrive in salt water. 

Today, she listens to their pain for the last time this year. She feels her joints screaming blue murder.  Is it possible to have sympathy pains in your body for the emotional suffering of others?  The more the hours move forward, she feels her body get heavier and heavier (no wait, that might be the chocolates and mid-afternoon pastries!).   Ah, yes, comfort food…soothing taste buds feeling like that nice cookie and milk mama gave after she had fallen and she had kissed her boo boo.

embracing moments
wedding vows by the ocean
barefoot on the beach

embracing moments
rolling with the waves
salt water floater

wedding vows by the ocean
even spirits are moved
Mom’s picture fell

barefoot on the beach
playful and delightful
celebrating love

©Tournesol ‘18/12/31

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

waiting for countdown (troiku – senryu)

knitting
weaving thoughts 
melancholy wool

knitting
dropping that last stitch
New Year’s Eve

weaving thoughts 
balancing hands and loom
in tandem

melancholy wool
patching wounds
forgiveness heals

© Tournesol ‘18/12/31

tic toc tic toc
waiting
countdown to midnight

(c) Tournesol’18-12-31

Baby it’s cold outside

This is the time of year she hears pros and cons (mostly cons) of Baby It’s Cold Outside, so she decided to watch the video once more. The message she remembers getting from this since she was a young child was “DON’T TRUST MEN!” She learned that if you go home for a nightcap at a man’s home or hotel room or whatever room he borrowed for a night was, do NOT trust him. You must keep your drink of soda in your hand ALWAYS even if you have to go to the washroom…like her mom always said, “Keep your drink within your sights at ALL time because your drink could be spiked with drugs.”

Isn’t that intersesting that in the 1960’s her mom was warning her about getting raped but we did not say that word in those days. When an older man, creepy drunk uncle, granddad or dad was too touchy feely, you were told to just squirm away politely. Yep, none of this was discussed openly. Why not? Why did we not just call things as they were? A lot of girls and young women may have skirted sexual assault, incest and RAPE. You know that 4-letter word that describes NO CONSENT!

Yeah, this really irks her thinking back how things were swept under the rug.

She remembers in the late 90’, newly single in her 40’s. She did not know much about dating. What does one know about dating when one is engaged at 16? She remembers going to a dance club with her girlfriends and at 02:45 (15 mins before closing time) the vultures checking their prey from the mezzanine would come down to pick a gift to take home…or hope to take home. A freebie, no doubt since they were too cheap to even buy a lady a drink. The music got louder the last hour before closing and the beat sounded like jungle music. Really!! And that is when she started smoking again so she could sit at the bar and give an excuse she had to finish her cigarette to NOT accept to dance with any of the losers fellas there. She liked dancing with her girl friends but when men tried to join them, she felt it an intrusion of their free spirited fun. It was sad to see how some people (men and women) hoped to meet the person of their dreams at a meat market dance club.

What is that about? Looking to score with a drunk woman was their goal. How pathetic is that? The remorse the next morning and that was not guilty feelings from the hunter but the prey turned victim turned guilt ridden blaming herself that she should not have dressed like that, should not have drunk so much, should not have gone out to that dance club…period!

And so she watches the video a third time in one sitting and tears run down her cheek as a memory of something- something flashes by her eyes…a memory she had buried so far away, she never had time to process. And now the song Baby It’s Cold Outside plays for a third time and she mourns her innocence of long ago, she grieves her loss of makebelieve where peole do not take advantage of other people. She mourns the thought that doctors, priests, dentists, ministers, teachers and other professionals are to be trusted, that fathers all over the world only love and respect their daughters, that dirty old men are only those dressed in dirty ragged clothes.

Now that song takes on a whole new meaning. The song makes her sad, then angry and she is disgruntled on her way to work and impatient with people sitting too close to her on the bus and she mourns her innocence because innocence used to be oh, so bliss.

big eyes
gazing admiringly
when she was six

big eyes
laughing with GrandPapa
watching her hero

gazing admiringly
resilience and honour
GrandMaman

when she was six
heros began to fall
GrandPapa died

© Tournesol ‘ 18 /12/21

Image result for big eyes by margaret keane
(c) Margaret Keane

I love this artist that I discovered in the movie made for her and walking along the rainy streets of San Francisco two years agoshe found her gallery. It was like a child walking into a candy store.

 

holiday dreams (troiku) RonavanWrites Haiku – slow-burn

(c) Clr ’18

 
Hot mug of cocoa 
Sitting before a crackling fire 
Eyelids slowly close 
 
Hot mug of cocoa 
Memories of long ago 
Scents of childhood 
 
Sitting before a crackling fire 
Birch logs burning ever slowly 
Embers glow 
 
Eyelids slowly close 
Dreaming of ol’ saint Nic 
Sleigh bells tin-a-ling  
 
© Tournesol ‘18/12/19 
 
A Troku is a new form of haiku created by Chévrefeuille at Carpe Dieme Haiku Kai  
This is written for RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku: Slow & Burn

an angel in the night

every inn is full 
  an angel in the night 
leads them to shelter 
 
every inn is full 
  stars bejewel a stable 
such humble beginnings 
 
an angel in the night 
 carries a sacred message 
a king is born 
 
leads them to shelter 
   babe swaddled in a manager 
wise men bearing gifts 
 
© Tournesol `18-12-15