Entrapped
by cold concrete,
beauty unnoticed
between
back-to-school
walkers,
dog sniffers,
after dinner strollers.
Protected by
a crack, fending off
frost, courageous
late bloomer.
Could we be like you?
Shining our summer
colors when
least expected?
Hiding our seeds
in safe places?
Creating while
waiting on winter
to wane?
Awakened by April
snows – showing
your sweet, sneaky
face, laced in
royal purple grace,
from your Good Friday
tomb, made new.
Margaret Ann Philbrick serves the Guild as the curator of the Redbud blog on Patheos at
https://www.patheos.com/blogs/redbudwritersguild/ She also co-edited and contributed to the
Redbud poetry and essay collection, Everbloom, Stories of Deeply Rooted and Transformed
Lives (Paraclete Press, 2017). Her first novel, A Minor - A Novel of Love, Music and Memory
(Koehler Books, 2014) garnered critical praise, “An emotional story…clear prose…delicately
constructed….nuanced characters….breaks the mold.” Kirkus Reviews. Back to the Manger
(Singing River Publications, 2009) created with her mother, an oil painter, is now a family
Christmas classic with ten years of consistent sales. She and her transgender sibling Carly are
featured in the video curriculum for the book, Messy Grace by Caleb Kaltenbach which teaches
people how to love authentically amidst lives in transition. Her poems and articles have been
featured in numerous anthologies and publications including C.T., Relevant, Ready magazines,
The Redbud Post and Patheos on-line. Margaret and her husband live on Lake Mendota in
Madison, WI and serve U.W. students from their lighthouse on Langdon,
https://www.instagram.com/lighthouseonlangdon/ . She is the mother of three highly dramatic,
artistic children and an obsessive compulsive dog, Snuggles.
![Ask Me What I [Don’t] Know](https://redbudwritersguild.com/wp-content/uploads/three-beauties-2722474_1920-768x512.jpg)
What do we see when we look at others’ faces? We notice the outward appearance, whether we wish to or not. Skin color, eye color, clothing, and so on, are apparent features that are obvious and difficult to pretend we do not see. What we cannot see or know from the outward appearance is a…
The original Plan—perfect but rejected. Sending hope cascading like a slinky toy down a staircase, coiling, tumbling, coiling, tumbling landing in a tangled heap. The same Plan—a different approach set into motion, to reclaim, and restore hope, unfurling it from earth to far beyond the stars. Unfolding, revealing year after year, a tender plant, growing…
Margaret Philbrick spent many summers playing tag in the cherry and apple orchards of northern Wisconsin. Her friend Julie grew up on one of those orchards and her life experiences of harvest and loss inspired this story. ******* Like most things it started with one. Grandma could never throw anything out. Like every Grandma in…
I was afraid to walk into my pain, but I saw you standing there. Your arms opened wide, so I’d slip right inside, I could feel how much you cared. My tears fell like rain, again and again, but you gathered them all, as you felt all my pain. I know who you are, for…
Day of the Lord You have this thing that begins as a wave, Hurried thing, it takes to task the columns of unconvincing elation. Ever present regardless of the wind or the decisions of humane individuals eager for motive, and cause, and effect, and things wrapped up before the end comes at warp speed. …
How would you describe the summer of 2020? What images and words come to mind? For me, I see my fingers curling around a cobalt blue pen, my knuckles dried out from floods of hand sanitizer. I’m sitting on a bench by a local river on a sunny June afternoon. A few days before, the…
I feel a little like this viola. Thanks for the imagery, Margaret.
My joy! A blessed Easter weekend to you all.
This is so beautiful. Thank you!
You are so beautiful! I’m glad to see that Owen is doing well:):) Praise God.
Loved this. “Creating while waiting on winter to wane.” I think all of us can relate as we have been waiting for things to change in the world around us. It’s just that it’s sometimes harder to get in touch with creating. That is until we connect with our God. Then watch out.
Yes, watch out! Thank you dear Anne!
I love the challenge, Margaret—can we be like Him even in the wintry seasons of our lives, “shining our summer colors when least expected? “. Lovely to see your work again!
I hope you are doing okay! Thinking of you today! xo.
always an admirer of those intrepid violets and of your writing, thank you!
Oh Emily, I raise my glass to you. Keep posting your images and words. I took both of the photos for both of my pieces featured here. We are kindred spirits from afar!
I loved this. We can spring up even on the coldest days and bring some sunshine to the least expected.
Yes, today where I live it is below zero, but the sun on my face keeps me going. Thanks for reading! You look like a little ray of sunshine in that picture:)