Thursday, January 29, 2009

If Memories Were Sparrows


they'd chirp an angry siren
from bramble round the chain
link fence that flanks
the tiny country cemetery
their peace disturbed
as I lumber toward my
sister's grave
shushing as I go


they'd anchor my grandmother's
beautiful fushia and soft pink peony bushes
standing guard between the steep hill
and wild flower garden 'neath
her big picture window with their own special perch
where they'd alight, along with the others
abiding in flowering forsythia
and lilac hedges

if memories were sparrows

they'd assemble with finches
outside my window
boisterously chirping
on snow covered lilacs
waiting impatiently for turn at seed
whispering to each other of
Gramma's persistent insistence for me to dig up
a few of those peony bushes
to plant here in the yard of my (then) new home
if only I had listened
ignored busyness
and thoughts of ants amuck in my car
or later, remembered her request
before the house sold and I could no longer
go back with shovel in hand

if memories were sparrows

they'd now be resting dormant
waiting for spring
only her desire to share them with me
lives with my ache of memory

These poems are a response to the challenge in L.L. Barkat's post The Great Poem Caper. Some of the entries have been published at High Calling Blogs' RAP: Poem Play.

Friday, January 16, 2009

For my Friend

If I could
into being
join together and
bring to fruition
I would

a live
just waiting for you

take home

I can only
come alongside
and cry
and trust
with you

that God
will hear
bring into being
your most

Ann's Pain to Poetry
Jennifer's The Poetry of Facebook
Unknown Contributor's Grandmother
LL Barkat's Holding
Erica's Work of His Hand

Monday, January 5, 2009

On the 12th Day of Christmas

Before this Season ends and a new begins, I thought I would share some images of my Christmas with you.

We had quite the ice storm here a couple of weeks before Christmas. We were lucky to be without power for only 24 hrs. It took about 5 days for many in the surrounding areas. My husband and I woke up to no power. As we sat together in front of the fireplace (converted to gas a couple years ago), we wondered if hot coffee constituted an exception to the state of emergency/ no cars on the roads rule.

No worries. Husband found the camp stove, a tank of propane, and got out the french press he had bought in Maine this summer, and Voila!! COFFEE! I love that man! Yeah, he was boiling that water, and later dinner, in the freezing rain.

Husband took this beautiful photo of full moon during ice storm.

How cute is this? Gift left on the windshield by aforementioned husband after cleaning off the rest of my car before leaving for work. I was late for my hall duty that morning because after I came outside and saw it, I had to search the house for the camera.

"Can anyone tell me what the true meaning of Christmas is?"
"I can, Charlie Brown," Linus said. Then he stepped to the front of the stage, and he quietly told the story of Christmas, the day the baby Jesus was born.

Grammy and all the grandchildren on the stairs during my family's (after) Christmas celebration. My favorite part of the whole night was the fifteen minutes that the youngest, redheaded Nicholas (making faces at himself in the mirror here), was gleefully scurrying up and down the stairs , pausing every so often on the landing in the middle, yelling at the top of his lungs "I LOVE BEING ALIVE! I LOVE BEING ALIVE!" over and over.

My Grandmas angels on the piano.


What will the next post bring?

We'll have to wait and see. Hopefully it will arrive soon. It probably won't be pretty and I know it won't be perfect, but I am anxious to get it out to you.

If you have made it this far, I thank you. And thanks for waiting.


Christmas/winter photos by K. Hileman

Ice Moon photo by R. Hileman

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

My Advent Gift

Sweet Corn and Cairo. Hmn.

I've been thinking about those two things all day (well, between counting money, and the next chapter of FLIPPED by WendelinVanDroanen, and smiles and frustrations, and a really cool photosynthesis lab).

My mouth watered when thinking of the long wait till the first appearance of those new ears of deliciousness wrapped in silky threads, waiting (it seems just) for me to devour.

And of that somewhat curious love of all things ancient, and buried, and Egyptian... and eventually just things old. Treasures waiting to be discovered. Claimed. Maybe even restored. Brought Home.

Waiting and New Life.

Glorious treasure and belief in the eternal.

Such a wonderful gift, with such a perfect name for this season of waiting.

A season of a Gift given, and received.

And still we wait.

Only time will tell what treasures may be unburied here.
Thank you, dear friend.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Fresh from the Field

Welcome to your new blog, my friend. This is your first post, and I'm writing it for you. I know you've wanted a blog for a long time and couldn't think of what to call it. So I took the plunge for you (at your request :) and created and named your blog.

Why "Sweet Corn and Cairo"? Because of all the things I remember about growing up with you, these two stand out in my mind... summer's gift of sweet corn and how you'd buy bushels and we'd shuck and boil the bread-and-butter of the fields, then eat until we could eat no more. And your undying love for Egypt. Someday you'll go perhaps.

I look forward to your gentle, humorous and profound thoughts here (no pressure!). Don't worry, you'll do fine, and I'll be here to remind you of your password. Anyway, it's time for me to be quiet and for you to take what now belongs to you. May it bless your life, even as you bless the world.