This Little Light of Mine

 

Let it Shine!

Shine like a new penny on the ground in the sun,

Like the chrome on the cars in 1951,

Shine like a star you wish upon in the night sky,

Like the sugar on top of the apple pie,

Shine like the sun sphere in Knoxville, Tennessee,

Like the bright lights on your Christmas tree,

Shine like the water in the rippling stream,

Like your headlights are set on high beam,

If you shine, the light will reflect onto others,

The world needs light, all the sisters and brothers,

When you feel dull, someone else’s light can shine on you,

Like a set of polished shoes, you’ll feel shiny and new!

True light comes from the heart, it is not a superficial shine,

It is from the soul, and it is certainly divine,

Spread the light, the joy, the hope,

Because life is quite a slippery slope,

If you fall into the pit, look for the light,

If your path is lighted, you have clearer sight,

Light is love, peace and comfort for all,

If you are in a dark place, you could stumble and fall,

Shine your light wherever you go,

“Hide it under a bushel”, No!”

Tammy Harvey  2/26/2022

City Kid

Red Barn Days

I was the city grandkid come to the country for a stay,
Challenging my Mam-maw to keep me out of her way,
The red barn out in the middle of the field,
Was the one my Pap-paw had to build,
That field enclosed in barbed-wire fencing,
Was full of thistle, and it took some convincing,
For my sister to run through the field with me,
Dodging briars and cow patties – that was key,
There was a large metal gate to drive the truck through,
I swung on that gate a time or two,
The pear trees stood just outside the gate,
Cattle stretched their necks across, then ate and ate,
The only milk cow was housed in the barn stall,
Mam-maw’s milking stool was so very small,
Old Jersey cow, I helped milk her in the morning,
“Don’t let her kick over the bucket”- that was my warning,
For my grandmother, it was a chore, but for me it was fun,
If a cow approached me though, I would run,
The rainwater trough was full to the brim,
And I remember only a few of them,
Slurping up water on a hot summer’s day,
When the grass was gone, Pap-paw fed them hay,
At one time, there were also pigs in a pen,
A big mama sow and piglets, when I was about ten,
We had to “slop the hogs” on our way to milk,
And they were lounging in mud as smooth as silk,
“Watch and don’t step in a cow pile”- Mam-maw would say,
But sometimes I accidentally did anyway,
She shook her head when I did,
For after all, I was the city kid!

Tammy Harvey
Written: 2/16/2022

Let the Boy Dance

Sir Dance Alot

My grandson can bust a move,
He has his own style; He has his own groove,
I love to see him dance around,
And his facial expressions are so profound,
He is quite clever with his body movement,
I don’t think he needs any improvement,
He is only a young boy of five,
But man, that boy can jump and jive!
Although his dance may be outrageous,
His enthusiasm is quite contagious,
The Egyptian part of his dance is cool,
I think he learned that in Sunday school,
He has lots of energy; It is true,
He can create a new dance, right out of the blue,
He is the oldest grandson that I’ve got,
So, I think I should knight him Sir Dance Alot,
A dance is helpful in any circumstance,
So, I say… Let the boy dance!

Tammy Harvey
Written: 2/13/2022

Come to My Window

 

Ready to Bird Watch

I put up the bluebird box, in my line of sight,

I have the feeders filled, and with pure delight,

I set up the birdbath, cleaned and ready for the season,

But mid-February and for some reason,

I haven’t had them find my birdy welcoming mat,

But I am confident that they will, and just like that,

I soon will be enjoying the birds feeding in my yard,

It’s probably a little bit early and waiting is pretty hard,

I’ve got yummy mealworms that bluebirds can’t resist,

Little birds, now go ahead and eat your fill, no really, I insist,

I’ve seen them sitting on my rooftop a time or two already,

It won’t be long before their visits are really very steady,

Beautiful bluebirds and other songbirds too,

Come to my window, I just want you in my view,

Watching you feed is my heart’s desire,

And if you choose to bathe, my excitement will grow higher,

Little birds, God watches over you and I want to be a part,

You neither sow, nor reap, but God has you in his heart,

Visit me if you will, I’ll be waiting here for you,

You bring to me such joy- if you only knew!

Tammy Harvey

Written:  2/12/2022

Let Your Eyes Hear

 

I Want to Paint

The first stroke of wet paint on a bright white canvas,

Is the beginning of a masterpiece that never was,

An original, only limited by the imagination,

An idea put into a sharable creation,

Personal, colorful, exciting and new,

To paint is to reveal what is held inside of you,

I want to paint.  I want to create what is me,

I’m not an artist necessarily,

But I’d say I’m a craft enthusiast, a struggling diy-er,

I express myself in making “artwork” out of pure desire,

A desire to create something that is pleasing to the eye,

Art reveals a spirit of appreciation for originality,

It stirs emotions in others and inspires them to a broader mentality,

Creating something from a place of inspiration as a gift of inspiration,

That is art- and it warrants a celebration!

It is a phenomenon of making a statement without even speaking, yet gently,

The eyes “hear” the words as it speaks to each one differently,

Swoosh! Splatter! Swipe! Paint!

Do not fall victim to self-restraint!

I want to paint.  I want to create what is me,

I’m not an artist necessarily,

But when I dip the brush and make the first few strokes,

I feel like I’m mightier than the mighty oaks,

I’m free to live in my imagination, for a time,

It’s like writing poetry that I don’t have to rhyme.

Tammy Harvey

Written:  2/12/2022