The golden days are numbered I fear the end of this.
The sun shines its way
through the seeds of flood,
and you my rainbow maker
sitting in ferns by the stream
cool mud on your knees
speckling light striking our shade. You are all a mutter, all in song:
Blackberries, dragonfly vexing, In the “new place” before Eden came, Tiger lilies and sentinel pines Stood watch for us there in the wood.
The lost gilding days may haunt us,
may teach us to sorrow before we should, but you should know that we were together there in the seed days of your life. That if we no longer speak of it When we are old like bark and stone, we were there together once where there was no enemy, only Joy songs, solid, strong, certain,
Sung together with my son.
Let us not fear the end,
But beg on golden days anew.
Rebecca King sometimes wishes there were more quiet moments in the day. A professional painter, homeschooling mom to her three children, owner builder project manager, and quiet corner poet, King finds little spaces to eek out feeling in blank pages. The daughter of C.S. Lewis scholar, Don W. King, her fondest childhood memories are of being read to by her father. To relive that experience, King has been reading aloud daily to her children since they were born just to be sure they remember it too. She lives in the mountains of North Carolina with her husband Paul, children Ezra, Eden and Orin and is growing larger every day with expectation waiting for identical twin baby girls due in October.