I hurry to the hill

 I hurry to the hill

I hurry to the hill to see the last of the sun setting 

A brisk walk -I don't want to miss it

Spring blossoms in the sky high

fragrance in the air throughout the woods

The windswept path clear of fall leaves 

New greens sprouting everywhere

Muffled sounds of fast cars and motorcycles in a distance

Me on a calm, quiet trail

I guess all are rejoicing in the spring and the sunshine

As we rush to see the sunset on the hill or the new dawn of day

About this poem: I hurry to the hill is a poem about a walk to the woods near sunset. It was also a day when the tulips in our yard were at the peak color and growth. Easter joy fresh on my mind. The Hill of Calvary could not hold Jesus's life in the ground but through his death and being raised to life meant new life for me! Fresh thoughts of so many years ago April 17th, 1982, when My Life, my sins, were washed clean and even now to this day and the sure hope of life eternal. - Joe Holuta

And I heard this worship song that sealed this beautiful walk and day!

Hill of Grace

Sweater

Sweater's warmth and this heart of mine beating

The warmth

An early morning 

Hair not yet in my pony

A sweater, a warmth, a security, and fresh spring blossoms' fragrance

Hurrying to say so long

Running alongside the fence 

"I chase"

like so many before me

Waving so long

Hearts beating fast

Not wanting to see them go

My legs not quite running as fast as my heart beating to my loves, those leaving

I wave 

I hope 

I wait 

I take a deep breath

Inhale deeply the sweater's weather fragrance 

I'm held close, warm home ahead 

I'm held with the memories and those that love me and I them

About this poem: Sweater's warmth and this heart of mine beating is a poem about our granddaughter walking outside with Nana's sweater. She was running with her dad, holding his hand, to say goodbye to her cousins driving the car up the road. Her legs and heart going as fast as they could to wave and "chase the car", as she exclaimed, as she said goodbye. We have done the same gesture over the years. So hard to see those you love leave, after having a wonderful time together! My heart was beating for both of them as they captured this memory together. - Joe Holuta

Two trees two lives

Two trees two lives

Two trees two lives

Oak trees, acorns drift, scatter and plant

Like the children of two lives 

Roots deep in the earth

Spreading, grasping, nourishing, hope

We plant trees in memory

Those we love live on

Trees planted in memory are far more than trees alone

You can hear their voices and laughter at the tree,

Encouragement and smiles and quiet appreciation too

Generations that follow sit under the trees

Oblivious to the history, the memories

Spring and fall the same, blossoms and falling leaves, branches high 

Vigorous lives, roots running deep but are rarely seen

Blossoms in spring

Colorful banners in fall

Seasons change year after year

Yet it doesn’t register, this breath of life, the daunting pace

The bench in their names a place to rest and dialogue on the blessings of this "beautiful life."

About this poem: Two trees two lives is a poem about two memorial red oak trees planted in memory of Betty Ann and Gealy W. Wallwork. I frequently walk to the Oak Grove and sit at the bench and think about their lives and the impact they made on my life and my children's lives. I have seen the trees in winter, spring, summer, and fall and I've seen the changes in the leaves and the growth as well. Each time I sit at the bench and look at the trees I'm invigorated with all that Betty and Gealy taught me and shared with our family- the love, the kindness, and encouragement in our lives. - Joe Holuta

For you

For you 

for you - this sunset 

     "why me"

why not you

      "I once was spectacular as the mighty oak, the vibrant sunset"

your roots are deep, an anchor, vital 

      "we once were strong, three together"

another grows upward in its place 

      "there are times I do not see the new growth and the good in front of me"

there is nothing new under the sun - but remember new mercies

"What has been will be again,
    what has been done will be done again

new mercies every morning under the sun."*

new day

"every morning"

About this poem: For you is a poem about a place I walk regularly where there are three very large trees and at sunset you can see them so beautifully. One of the large trees now fallen was remove, but there's another one growing up in this place. One evening I was walking and wrote this poem as a dialog between someone questioning times of their life when they were younger and then God answering them to bring more clarity to their view of life. Though they once may have been mightier, now their roots are very deep and solid and they're strong in so many ways. At times we don't see the growth from life's struggles or trials.

Many times, we have blessings and gifts that are right in front of us we fail to see because we may want to go back to an earlier time in life. Despite the pain and trials of this brief life, God wants us to take heart and know there's nothing new under the sun, and we will get through the hard times. New mercies are given freely to us every morning for which I am so thankful. - Joe Holuta

* Lamentations 3:22-23

No Ice Skating

No ice skating 

Watching the "Winter" Olympics together 

The excitement and beauty in Italy

The shimmering snow, ice, and outfits, beautiful 

ice-skating, dancing and feats of grandeur on so thin blades

Walking together, she picks up a stick and asked me too as well

Her shimmering coat and crocheted, gifted hat

-warm and the colors of the Olympics 

We walked to the lake, iced over by the cold, cold winter

I tried to explain "no ice-skating"

you could see the dreaming in her eyes

She asked me to throw ice chunks onto the lake 

Her eyes brighten as she watched as they skid across 

First the thud, the echo under the ice, and the scattering chunks

slowly coming to rest 

New excitement 

A gray fox walks across the ice while we look across the vast frozen waters 

Large cracks freshly frozen again 

The fox walks briskly on the frozen waters and did not heed the sign. 

Glad she's still dreaming, the silent moment, the look in her eyes

"No Ice Skating " does not register in her beautiful mind

Does not diminish her imagination, hopes, and dreams

And Winter, winter in our arms resting, dreaming 

About this poem: No Ice Skating is a poem about a walk with our granddaughter Maude after watching the Winter Olympic figure skating. She is so alive and inquisitive on many aspects of life. Sticks and ice chunks along the way capture her attention as well as the path along the frozen lake. She notices the sparrows and squirrels in the woods near the lake and the lone fox brisky crossing the lake. I notice the No Ice Skating sign near the lake and see her still head and fixed intense eyes looking. It's the silent moments seeing her look with wonder at all the newness of the day. We also think fondly about the joy of this winter and her lovely sister, Winter, who we will gladly greet on returning home sweet home.

- Joe Holuta