the sun shines bright

fleet footed
beautiful in their blindness
except when they run headlong
into the path of automobiles
’tis the land of the lakes
Kentucky bluegrass
old-growth forests
determined to survive clearcutting
the home of deer
who prance across rolling hills
on their way to the creek
lifting their heads to sniff the wind
the breezes that rustle the corn tassels
carry the tart smell of apples
of woodsmoke
and the sound of the lone fiddle


– a poem written by Millie Hughes


Personal Friend

I see him in the waterfall
and in the blowing breeze

His voice can be heard in the trees
and in the newborn’s call

His touch is the sun’s warmth
or the craggy bark of an old tree

His presence wells up within me
when birdsong issues forth

He is with me always
a constant friend

Eternity is mine to spend
Praising God for all of my days