October 2014 – Warfel Poems

After the Storm

Yes, the wind did howl and roar
the trees shook and pieces of leaves flew
branches broke and came crashing down
barn doors bent and strained against the strength
lightning crashed and thrashed about
stinging particular areas
leaving chunks of bark
scattered far
and an electric smell particular
thunder rolled and rumbled loud
then rumbled loudly again
at last
rain soaked world
was quiet again
and the sun came out so clear, so bright

I walk the farmstead
survey the fields
the wet grass soaks my shoes
and mud, sweet mud is all around
I could almost hear
the thirsty plants
drinking deeply the fine cool water
the air rich
with cleansed aroma
and the world right again
balance
as we crave it
comes between
the rain and drought and keeps us
on our toes, or on our knees
in humble adoration
of the beauty, of creation
oh, how awesome!

Lin 07/05

013

After the StormLin Warfel2022-09-03T14:54:17-04:00

The Olde Barn

Great grandpa’s day,
a first on the farm
was the income producer the proud new barn

Rising stick by stick
skilled hands hewed, pegged
put together the skeleton
then roof and siding and more
a little room for tack
a little room for special feed
a little room for tools and a vice
stanchions for the cows
who would stand and munch while we milked
and a giant space for hay

Oh the memories piling with the hay!

Playing in the mountain
with grandpa far below
a fell into a cavity
I could see the top way up
and yelled for grandpa
He heard me and came quickly
dropping a rope down to me
pulling me up and out
(I still get claustrophobic!)

Another time I climbed the ladder
to throw down hay for the cows
just about dark, it was
As I reached the upper floor
two red beady eyes,
and a big mouth of sharp teeth greeted me
I yelled and raced down and out
to grandpa’s laughter
A possum had run me off!

Another time I tried to help
Grandpa had a brand new pitchfork
he only had half broken tools
I was working with the hay
most awkwardly
the handle being for a grown man
and me but a small boy
So I used my brain and thought
“Saw in the tool room, vice to hold the handle”
and I cut the handle to my size.

Grandpa was apoplectic
but never said a word
’cause my motive was pure-
it was for WORK
a religion of sorts.

The stories are many
I sure could go on
about life in the barn
I need to write that
for the grandchildren?

A hundred ten years have passed
since great grandpa worked there
and now, now,
the barn can’t be used
doesn’t fit what we do
and is gonna come down

A giant machine will come
and with a great iron hand
swing and bang and bring it down
to a sad, sad pile of sticks
Yes, we’ll recycle, as much as we can

Soon it will be
like a spent party balloon
laying, waiting
to be sorted out and gone
The party is over
but the party goes on
just in another way

Good bye, old friend
you served ever so well
but you, too, must return
to the soil from which you came.
Lin 11/2011

001

The Olde BarnLin Warfel2022-09-03T14:54:17-04:00

Memorial Day

American Flags
red white and blue
fluttering in the breezes
Moments of crowd silence
the taps mournfully playing
Throats tighten
tears begin to flow
as memories of loved ones flood
as we look upon long lines
of white tombstones stretching
across the rolling hills

Freedom is not free
though for me and thee
it can be not costly
for we are here
to live our lives in prices paid
by these, the fallen, on our behalf

Walking past the tombstones
the dates call out the places
where men traveled, then fought and fell
to speak no more
to touch no more
to begin to lose their faces
Can we remember, see them smiling?
Less and less we see
that they were little babies
nursing at their mother’s breasts
They were students learning, graduating
surging out across life’s oceans
making their way in the larger world

Now they lay
quiet
forever

What can we learn
from memories sweet
cherished loved ones there
what can we share
that has some meaning
for the pain they bore?

Life is precious
on that we need reflect
affirm it strongly
lift it up in prayer
Resolve
to do our part
each one
to honor sacrifice
on our behalf
that it not be in vain.

Lin Memorial Day 08

032

Memorial DayLin Warfel2022-09-03T14:54:17-04:00

The Sun Comes Up

The psalms often end
with the word “Selah”
It is thought to mean
‘the orchestra comes up’

Behind the scenes
music is playing
ever so softly
background notes

Is it not so
often in our lives
when the times are tough
when the days are dark
the sun comes up
and the orchestra
that was there all the time
blossoms into full notes

So we have springtime
when our clocks jump ahead
and Easter presents
The ‘music’ comes up
the winter hidden sun
soaks and warms the soil and us
and colors unfold around us
bathing our bodies, minds, and spirits

Ah, yes, the Son comes up!

Selah! Lin 03/08

024

The Sun Comes UpLin Warfel2022-09-03T14:54:18-04:00

Through her eyes…

They are blue
my lover’s eyes
and known to melt me, meld me
in numerous ways:

Her mind is keen
perception fine
in measuring situations
knowing people
in intuitive ways
she often knows them better
than straight line me
who tends to be
the last to sense some subtleties

Her judgment solid
time and again
she is the rock so firm
in sticking to
what she knows as ‘right’
matching knowledge with action

She knows me
knows each child
and spouse and grandchild too
carries burdens
for all of us
in wishing us the best

From only child
to mother of five
and grandmother now to six
her love surrounds
encourages on
each and all of us.

Some forty years and more
she’s held my hand (and me)
advising, helping, sharing, loving
how blessed can one man be?
Indeed I know,
God loves me so,
because, just look,
He gave her to me…

Kay, Kayper, Constance Lin, 08/05

033

Through her eyes…Lin Warfel2022-09-03T14:54:18-04:00

August Fog

Kinging the rain
but just for a moment passing
the night air lays heavily
on morning breaking

Don’t we know
the son is ‘out there’
Power on high coming
burning through the fog,
the flotsum jetsum of earth
of humans coming, going
so quickly

We make our moves
scurrying here…, and there…
needing to stop
to listen
to soak it all in

Quietly
the fog blanket covers
quietly
it is pushed away

Not by our might
not by our power
but that of a Creator
who is above all things
and in all things

As sleep slips away
and our minds begin to click
our vision is wont to clear
and we can greet the morning

“Great is thy faithfulness
morning by morning
new mercies I see
All I have needed
thy hands have provided
Great is thy faithfulness
Lord unto me.”*

Lin 08/09

*Chisholm, Runyan, 1923, Great is Thy Faithfulness

029

August FogLin Warfel2022-09-03T14:54:18-04:00