THE MUSIC OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS
By Larry B. Reinhold *** March 23, 2023
Frolicking light of green and red and white,
Prancing and leaping and having a ball.
Seems to be moving in rhythm of a distant symphony,
And I hear the yip and howl, the yip and howl of the coyote's call
***
Streams of light reaching the Great Bear of the night sky.
High in the sky these northern lights are amazing to all.
And then I listen for the music of the silence,
And the yip and howl, the yip and howl of the coyote's call.
***
I follow a beam of polar light over my shoulder.
And seemingly the journey of Orion comes to a stall
And just as an old friend we stop and watch and listen,
To hear the yip and howl, the yip and howl of the coyote's call.
***
Again I stand amazed by the drama of Aurora Borealis.
I glance to the west, where the stage was not at all small.
Venus and the Crescent moon play second chair and hear
The yip and howl, the yip and howl of the coyote call.
***
I am now feeling the chill of the night as it replaces
The thrill of watching the spectacle from heaven's hall.
I lower my gaze and I turn my back and yet continues the music
The yip and howl, yes the yip and howl of the coyote's call.
WINTER HAS ME ASKING
For nearly six decades I have pondered
When the shadows cast nearly north.
And the sun catches the distant horizon
And the days of winter now set forth.
The winter solstice has me asking
What is it about the enduring night?
That sets in at the end of each day
When the darkness outlasts the light.
The "North Country" is where I call home.
Often, sunup to sundown happens to be my clock.
It is no use to fret that the day is done.
Makes little difference on the path I walk.
So, I will take each moment in stride.
Perhaps the seasons say it best.
The days of summer I work long and hard.
The days of winter it is time to ponder and rest.
I am reminded a lesson to adhere.
To everything there is a reason,
As the Scripture of old clearly states
To the passage of day and of each season.
Larry B. Reinhold
December 21, 2021
EMANUEL JACOB FISHER... A TRIBUTE TO YOU
Not a word to say, Daddy carried in
A pine box to be their son's earthly bed
Mommy whispered through her tears,
"I sure wish it was a toy box, instead."
A little boy conceived in love.
A dream to enhance the human race.
Delivered from the warmth of mother's womb
Into the loving arms of God's embrace.
In their home and in their eyes...
So much evidence of joy.
In their heart they know God is love.
But oh how they miss the heartbeat of that little boy.
Carefully they lay their son in,
This homemade box of pine.
They fold his blanket all just right.
And in the silence, "Mommy, Daddy will you be fine?"
Daddy holds Mommy real close and tight.
"Our son...'God With Us'... It's even in your name.
Emanuel Jacob Fisher.... A tribute to you...
We will be fine... But we will never be the same."
***
Larry B. Reinhold
December 10, 2021
The Prairie.... My Garden
When you can wander a garden that spreads across thousands of acres... One cannot help but relate to South Dakota's own, Artist Harvey Dunn, and his painting, "The Prairie is My Garden".
***
Bouquets of sweetpeas and bluebells grace our tables and sideboards and even the dash of the pickup for weeks every spring here on the ranch. The aroma is amazing...