BEGINNINGS How mystery-simple to produce (if not to tend) a Man. Then One moment for variegated dreams to start what they began: That moment not first breath or cry but touch (or lack) of love-warm vision to beginning span. THE BUTTERFLY As you turned From the place of blessing You were as a chrysalis Unwrapped; Momentarily static But radiantly new: Your wings still folded, Colors yet to be revealed - Poised Toward Coming momentum But stunned By freshness of view. I grew up in the middle of New York, NY beginning at the very end of World War II: an artificial city life sprinkled with summers elsewhere. I met Jim Morrisson (my husband of 63 years) when he was a law student and we sang in the same choir. (Back then, we loved the music but we didn't know God yet.) We venture forth every day into the hours that are given, to taste the Life all around us and see God's Fingerprints everywhere. Such is the basis of this poetry that we share here. Hope is a blessing available to all of us on this side of the sod. May some of these poems bless you too. | Reflections on Life by Frances Freedman Morrisson, Paperback | Indigo Chapters