Left Behind

“Every moment of this strange and lovely life from dawn to dusk is a miracle. 

Somewhere, always, a rose is opening its petals to the dawn. 

Somewhere, always, a flower is fading in the dusk.” 

 Beverly Nichols


Left Behind
by Elece Hollis
I love to find the spaces where the flowers bloom and grow,
Places where once frame houses stood … abandoned long ago.
I love to see the trees strong standing like sentinels on the land;
To think of the generations these farms and orchards spanned.
I love to think in years gone by—sweet on a springtime day,
Long before the family changed and faded soft away,
A housewife knelt with flower bulbs, a garden trowel in her hand,
Turned back the dirt and snugged each bulb like a promise to the land.
She watched them sprout each springtime—watched them bloom in time;
She knew they’d make the heart glad … like God’s poetry and rhyme.
Pink hyacinths, dancing iris, bright sunny daffodils,
Come suddenly through the brown loam of winter’s dreary chills.
Through many years of happiness, perhaps a few of woe,
Those flowers sprout back up again when soft spring breezes blow.
They push up through life’s seasons. They speak of days gone by,
Of births, of deaths, marriages, moves—changes the blossoms belie.
One day the house stood empty, one day the roof would fall,
But those flowers would come for decades—legacies outlasting all.
When houses and barns decay and fall, and fences totter and lean
The soil reclaims its expanses, but time winks his eye at these.
A good man leaves an inheritance for his Children’s children…
Proverbs 13:22

Helen Steiner Rice poetry with devotions by Elece Hollis

Swallowtail

Swallowtail
By Elece Hollis

All among the flowers
 She fluttered, she flew and she lit,
Again her wings opened and closed like doors
On hinges
Windows that know the sky, the wind, the voice
Of the creator who called her from a chrysalis
Before that from an egg on the underside of a leaf
From the egg she crawled a caterpillar
Along the leaf eating, eating—so hungry
Always full and still hungry 
 To the under-edge of a twig
 To wait and grow—curl up inside a tiny room where 
She sleeps, she waits again and longer until the day 
She fits no more—her natural plastic splits
 Off she goes and her wings expand with fluid pumped in
Her moist wings dry in the warm sun 
She flaps them the first time
Flies off to be somebody’s miracle,
Somebody’s message,
Somebody’s angel
Somebody’s delight.
 Now she is mine.

©2014 Elece Hollis , author of Meet God in the Morning, Poems from the Heart of Prayer,
 a devotional book with poems by Helen Steiner Rice. Find this book.Meet God in the Morning: Poems for the Heart of Prayer