fullsizeoutput_7accChristmas Cactus

 By Elece Hollis

She’s called a cactus––but has no spines;

She speaks between her graceful lines.

She isn’t fir or coned´pine.

At Christmas time.


She isn’t Poinsettia bright

Not Amaryllis––that’s alright!

 She bows her head––shy––out of sight

At Christmas time.


She brightens up the room each year;

Comes to bring us all good cheer.

I count her blossoming quite dear

At Christmas time.




Cactus Blossom

fullsizeoutput_7accThe Color White

By Elece Hollis

Spring is yellow forsythia and daffodils, red of tulips, hyacinth purple, white crocus, lilies and all shades of bright.

Summer is every color under the sky-blue, it’s every shade of green, white clover, and red roses a picket fence.

Fall has crimson apples, sunflowers, leaves of orange, yellow, and Sweetgum purple, honeysuckle, and white of frost on the windows.

Winter is brown and gray, but holds white of the first falling snow, white of moon’s shine and sparkling stars.

White is a country church’s freshly painted steeple, white flesh of a river trout, of salt, of a lamb’s wool

White of new cotton socks, white of sifted bread flour, white of butterfly wings and angel robes in Christmas plays.

White is drifting clouds, white of pages between the lines, of coconut milk,  a polar bear fur, of egret’s feathers.

White of a bride’s gown, a porcelain sink, powdered sugar, whipped cream for pumpkin pie, white of wave crests and thundering waterfalls,

I love white. White is every color, every place, every season––every rhyme.

Bright Song

 Beauty is God’s handwriting––a wayside sacrament. 
Welcome it in every fair face, in every fair sky, in every fair flower, 
and thank God for it as a cup of blessing. 
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Bright Song
By Elece hollis
Beside the steam I found them 
Sunlit iris wild.
I stopped and walked among them with
 Wonder of a child.
I sat down and I listened
And I began to hear
Music from the forest, the ocean,
Coming near.
I think I heard a mountain 
Singing a sweet air
A melody, a tune, a hymn, a ballad 
I could share.
So I joined in the singing, 
The serenade of light;
An anthem, a soft lullaby, a sonnet,
Chorus bright.



You’re a man, you’ve seen the world––
The beauty and the wonder and the power, 
The shape of things, their colors, lights and shades, 
Changes, surprises–– And God made it all!
Robert Browning

By Elece Hollis

Time for vases of daffodils on the windowsill.
Time for filling the hummingbird feeders.
Time for sunny warmer days and thunder-stormy evenings.
Time for treefrogs singing after rain.
Time for listening for the returning song of the scissortail.
Time for goldfinches bright yellow in the dandelion patches.
Time to start mowing grass.
Time for azaleas blooming in the park.
Time for bumblebees investigating the first roses.
Time to eat asparagus for supper.
Time for watching the sunset from the porch swing.
Time for wonder. Time for renewal.
Time for dogwood.

What Color?

What man has written man may read; 
But God fills every root and seed 
With cryptic words, too strangely set
For mortals to decipher yet. 
What Color?
by Elece Hollis
Some colors we cannot define.
Here is blue. No red, maybe purple?
 There is gold of light and white 
Color bleeds through
Layers itself, bunches up
To make it’s heart stronger,
Then shies back like
A young girl showing Daddy her new dress
November hydrangea
Tinged with wine and buttoned with sky
Lined with indigo 
Streaked and speckled with snow white 
Back-lit with orange and brown and green
Color not waiting to be named,
 But changing every second 
With the song of the autumn wind,
The warm caress of afternoon sunlight,
 The cold touch of night’s hand,
 The frosty breath of 

©2014 Elece Hollis

Meet God in the Morning: Poems for the Heart of Prayer
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