Can You See the Sky?

Can you see the sky with your mind’s eye, just before dawn,
When morning twilight pushes away the last dark of night,
Bringing its promise in the spectral hues of another day?

Do you recall that instant, as you watch the sun of life arising,
When you know that in a moment, in a single beat of your heart,
Its warming glow will shine on you and all you love?

Do you remember the wonder of the earth revealed,
The joy of a miracle unfolding,
As that great star with its beams of warming rises to smile on you?

Do you carry in your memories the beauty of the sky,
With beaming light revealing clouds of color and endless forms,
Singing a chorus of new beginnings?

Do you feel the salty, morning air
Caressing your skin, cleansing your soul,
Preparing your heart for a day of loving - and being loved?

That is what you are to me, the rising sun,
Shining on me with your every smile
Bringing color and joy and hope to life,
In a daily host of new beginnings.

Tim Beckham

My Valley Green

My Valley Green, lost in the traffic of a city unfolding,
Secret home of boundless hopes and wishes,
Cradle of dreams felt a thousand ages ago,
When people trod on grass as fresh as tomorrow
And knew the day was a promise from the dawn.

You are my home, but not my dwelling place.
You hold a troubled soul in cradling, verdant arms,
That soothe with gentle winds and soft snow and misty rain.
You sing without words a chorus of silent yearnings.
Your rustling sounds are Nature's sweetest melodies,
Easing the heart of a warrior lost in fear and worry.

Oh, my Valley Green, send me away to fight,
And lose and win in a struggle you know to be vain,
For you stand in your silent splendor,
Proof against a vanity that man cannot but display.

It is easy to remember you, my dear, natural mother.
You are crystal clear in this old mind’s eye.
I hold you near from afar
And will return, my Valley Green,
In the spring, in the summer, in the winter and fall
To hear your sweet sounds, feel your cradling arms,
Smell your memories and wonders,
And sing with you the redeeming hymns of your wooded grace.

Tim Beckham
April 24, 2015