MY DAUGHTER

I strain to hear
Her breathing now
I smooth her downy soft hair
Each little gurgle
Or her cry
Brings forth a throb of care
I know as
The years go by
My caring will not cease
But worry for her welfare
Could very well increase
No matter
That her baby hair
May change from
Brown to gold
And then ever so quietly
The gray will say she’s growing old
I’ll never stop my caring
My prayers I still will pray
My concern for her will still be there
Unto the end of my last day

Lucille Falk Miller (c) 1988

MONTANA IN MARCH

Grays & Browns
And big gray sky
Patchy stands of sage
Scrubby trees
And stubble fields
On rugged rolling hills
Lonely houses
Power lines
Fence posts here & there
And almost always
Mountains
Both far away & near
Except for those
Who ride with us
No people to be seen
Even in the little towns
Their trucks & autos
Sit there parked
Their cattle
Sparsely wander
And as evening settles in
Their lights begin to glisten

Lucille Falk Miller © 3/4/88

A TREE

Can’t they get
The trees to grow
Around their houses
Don’t they know
Comfort and beauty
Are reward
For those who plant
Trees in their yard
The houses stand there
Lonely
Unlovely, I think
If only
There could be
Perhaps
A stately tree

Lucille Falk Miller © 3/4/88

MONTANA LANDSCAPE

Relics
Of ancient volcanoes
Mark the rolling land
Almost prairie like
And here and there
A peak
Suddenly rises
To the sky.
Beneath the soil
Dinosaurs
Lie undiscovered
Mute testimony
Of fiery fury
Blotting out the sun
So long ago

Lucille Falk Miller © 3/4/88

MY SON

I hold you
Closely in my arms
My darling baby son
I press my check
To your soft hair
My precious little one
Love and Joy
And tenderness
Completely fill my soul
I treasure every moment
Of my mother’s role
I know before I catch my breath
You’ll toddle all around
And then before I know it
You’ll not want me to be found
Hovering and fussing
And looking out for you
And acting worried and concerned
The way most mothers do
I hold you even closer
I hug you while I can
I know that years pass quickly
That soon you’ll be a man
Your baby hair so soft & brown
Perhaps may change to gold
Then ever so quietly
The gray will hint you’re growing old
But through the years
Though they may be long
My thoughts will be of you
I’ll glory in your triumphs
In all the things you do
I know you mean so much to me
My dreams, my hopes, my joy
Though I look up to see your face
My heart will see my baby boy
And never will I live so long
That I may cease to pray
My prayers will always be for you
Unto the end of my last day.

Lucille Fall Miller © 1988

NO LONGER FIT

The winter is waning
The joy of it
But sadly to dim
My joy a bit
All my spring things
No longer fit

Lucille Falk Miller
March 1992

ROLE REVERSAL

Birthday parties
Weeks at camp
Practice and rehearsals
Dance recitals
And those plays
We now have role reversals
Children grown tall and trim
No longer are the actors
Instead they seek to juggle time
And weigh those unknown factors
It’s parent who looks out longingly
For that familiar face
And try to rationalize the cause
Of that still empty place.

LUCILLE FALK MILLER
1984

WHO OWNS THE LAND?

Broken windows
Caved in roof
Weeds where flowers grew
Skeletons of worn out trees
Planted there when
Dreams were new—
Who piled the logs
Carefully notched
Where are the children now
Who ran beside
The farm dog
And helped to milk each cow
And the land you used to till
Does your family
Own it still?

Lucille Falk Miller © 1988

WATER

Most precious
The best of our gifts
Without it
Diamonds
Rubies
Gold
Have no value
Without it
Our lives
Cease to exist

Lucille Falk Miller © 1988

NOW IS THE TIME

I have to travel now
I have to up and go.
If I don’t travel now
One thing for sure I know
If I don’t travel now
My steps may get too slow
My eyes may not see well
My hearing too might go.
I have to travel now
While I still have a mate
I want to travel now
Before it is too late
I’ll take my journeys now
Before my need for ease
Decrees I must stay home
With all my memories

Lucille Falk Miller © 3/14/88

SWEET REMEDY

There is no pain
To match the one
Caused by a daughter
Or a son
Not the pain
Than came with birth
That was nothing
But on this earth
There is no misery
To endure
Comparable –there is no cure
Misunderstood -
By my own son
Or perhaps
My daughter is the one
Except that pain
Just fades away
Like a miracle the day
My son or daughter
Takes my hand
“I love you Mom -
I understand”

Lucille Falk Miller © March, 1988

DROUGHT

DROUGHT

There is no snow
Except a tiny bit
On the north side
Of a hill
Sheltered from the sun
The plowed strips
Between the stubble
Testify the hope
And faith of farmers
And yet the creeks
Even now
This early spring
Run dry

Lucille Falk Miller © 3/4/88

A Drawing

Pen on paper
4x6"

ICE

It's January 2010
The sun is shining
That is when
The mercury falls
And so do we
If we don't check
And we don't see
All the ice
Laying there in wait
Broken bones
Are a sorry fate.

Lucille Falk Miller (c) 1-6-2010

NO CHANGING

It is so nice to be
Able to fit pleasantly
With those we so often see
Even if we don't agree
We don't have to
Tell them so
It's better that
They do not know.
There is little chance
Of changing them.
They are rock
From root to stem.
So we just listen
If we must
And we know there is
No changing us.

Lucille Falk Miller (c) 1/6/2010

THAT'S WHERE I BELONG!

I didn't write that thank you note

I meant well

What the Hell

I didn't visit Gertrude

I meant well

What the Hell

I didn't thank my hostess

I meant well

What the Hell

I have no social conscience

On right I seldom dwell

I hope you'll all forgive me.

I mean well

What the Hell.

Lucille Falk Miller (c) 4-5-86

Landscape of Life

My life-
Quite like the landscape
With mountain peaks
And valleys
The joyful high
The plunging low
But mostly
It's a high plateau

By Lucille Falk Miller (c) 3/4/88

Memory

"The moon a gorgeous ball of orange
Slides up the horizon line."
I remember these lines from a poem I wrote
When I was not quite nine.
I sent it in to The Denver Post
They grantrd me honorable note
But my poem vanished long ago
I remember a few lines I wrote
"Lovers strolling alone in the park
Need no words,
They are sung by the moon's nightengale"
I'd really love to find that poem
But I've searched to no avail.

Snow

Christmas now is over.
We are now in the new year.
I'll soon be flying home again
But wishing to be here.
We've spent time with my sister's family,
Nephew and neices too,
Got acquainted with dogs and cats, .
Shopped for things almost new.
The days pass far too quickly.
The freeways with snow and rain
Were a challenge to drive on
But I had no need to complain.
The snow is still falling this morning.
Trees and roofs sparkling light.
The beauty leaves me breathless,
Really a gorgeous sight.
My daughter and her husband
Have blessed these days with joy.
My dearest wish they lived close by -
Now that I would really enjoy.

~Lucille Falk Miller (c) 2010

　

Oh Moon

Oh Moon,
Thou pearl of silver light,
There on thy diamond strewn
Velvet pillow of twilight
Reflected back
On lakes and streams
You fill my head
With golden dreams,
Oh Moon.

2/12/90 Lucille Falk Miller
Posted on the occasion of the Dec. 2009 Blue Moon.