Swans float upon the water with grace and with ease they fly,
But feeding turns them bottom’s up, before each watcher’s eye!
They sailed across the ocean neigh six score years ago.
And set their faces westward to a land they did not know.
The call to join the gath’ring saints in search of peace and rest,
Kindled great desires to build a Zion in the west.
O pioneers, those pioneers! I’m proud to bear their name.
I’ll sing in praise and raise my voice; their story to proclaim.
The gospel news had spread abroad across Atlantic sea.
And grew within the hearts of a Danish family.
Like many others, they set sail and left their country home,
To join the saints en-route to a desert land unknown.
Ever westward, slowly bending to that Zion in the west.
Onward ever onward, there was little time to rest.
The dust was thick, the nights were cold. Death was ever near.
A shallow grave along the trail was a constant haunting fear.
O pioneers, those pioneers! I’m proud to bear their name.
I’ll sing in praise and raise my voice; their story to proclaim.
James Eli Powell and Mary and two children drove a team,
That pulled a covered wagon to reach a distant dream.
But as the fate of many, Mary soon grew ill and died.
No marker shows her lonely grave, where the last goodbye was cried.
Yet through it all, they often sang; the words a story tell.
Around the fire, sweet music swelled and told that ‘all is well’.
The westward trek’s remembered for the courage that it shows.
They made the desert grasses bloom and blossom as a rose.
O pioneers, those pioneers! I’m proud to bear their name.
I’ll sing in praise and raise my voice; their story to proclaim.
They planted seeds that grew into an empire through the years,
Though few knew more than crude log homes, sacrifice and tears.
The days have passed ere pioneers were seen throughout the land.
Yet their story leaves us something good to understand.
Though years roll on, and faces change, those very names we bear.
We still posses that self-same flame they carried here with care.
We can boldly raise it’s light; bright through all the years.
A tribute to those mighty ones, the Mormon Pioneers.
Grandpa is so nice and kind,
With an open heart and mind,
Kindness and creativity shown,
Like the colors of the rainbow.
You are cool. You are fun. You are unique. You are grateful. You are wise. You are creative. You are faithful. You are compassionate. YOU ARE GRANDPA!
Two young marmots peek out from holes within a fallen, mossy tree.
These rascals we’ll call Chip and Dale, peer out most carefully,
Then curiously, the two young pups began to venture out,
And soon they were in full view, and began to move about.
These two plump rascals filled our hearts with joys beyond compare.
These cute wood chuck memories will linger innocent and fair.
Blacky came to charm his way into our very souls.
His raven ways won our hearts, as he obtained his goals.
He jumped upon a pine root perch, not 6 feet from us.
We tossed him bread and other treats and we gained Blacky’s trust.
He cried “Don’t go!”, in raven calls, as we drove away.
We won’t forget the miracle God shared with us that day.
Little one, your life began long before your birth.
Little one, your spirit lived and planned to come to earth.
Perhaps you even saw your home, or chose your family,
But now you’re here, and memory fades, the past you cannot see.
The sweetness of your spirit there; it glows now in your face.
Your innocence in this strange world now seems so out of place.
And surely those you knew before were sad to see you part,
But let you go with tears of joy to finally have a start.
Do you often feel afraid, and ever all alone?
I guess this place where you’ve been sent, doesn’t seem like home.
But when you stay, you’ll come to know, you have no need to fear.
We can find the peace and love of heav’n and bring it here.
I feel so humbled when I think that you’ve been sent to me.
I don’t know how to show my love like parents heavenly.
I know I cannot take their place, but if I try and pray,
I’ll keep your spirit sweet and pure so you’ll return someday.
Let this serve as a tribute to all fathers, everywhere, who invest their time, efforts, patience and kindness to their family. They are the truly great men of our time. Thanks to our Dads, husbands and Grandpas.
Sometimes I think it’s just not fair,
That I am here and you are there.
The way I’d like the day to be,
Is always have you here with me.
Then I could hug you all the day,
And always have the chance to say,
I Love You.
My grand kids also grow so fast. Time just keeps on ticking. Decades can fly by almost unnoticed. The reality of mortality is usually sobering to me, especially now that I’m on the ‘short end of the stick’. I wrote this poem for Bob just after we were married, and 30 seemed old!
A fledgling little bird uneasily flaps his wings.
A newborn baby bunny is clumsy when he springs.
But time with all Her patience
Cures all their newborn ills,
Yet still the creatures learn to grow
By stumbling and spills.
And so it is with you, my dear,
You work and play from year to year.
And isn’t it so nice to know
You have eternity to grow?
And with each birthday you can look
And see the road and climbs you took.
The older that you grow to be,
The easier the top to see!
