Ode to Little Tomatoes

Look at them!
Perfect little round balls
of juicy sweetness –
the last harvest of the fall –
planted and watered by me
tended by honey bees –
planted in the spring
in a pot on the deck
growing in the summer sun
watered by the rains of autumn –
it took three seasons
to get them here –
me and the bees
and the sun and the rain –
connected in the magic
of these perfect red orbs.

-Karen Molenaar Terrell

What Remains

It’s dark outside, and cold,
and the rain is on the offensive.
Last summer I craved the rain –
I missed the sound of gentle pattering
on the roof, and the smell of clean
green fields after a cooling drizzle.
So I guess I should be grateful
for this rain.
But I just feel drenched inside and out,
soggy-headed, and worn down by the
relentless downpour – the watery refrain.

My heart is low. My instinct wants me
to jolly myself along – put in a funny
movie and laugh my way out of this pain.
But another voice tells me it’s okay
to feel this way – to just sit in this
and feel whatever I’m feeling
and accept it – maybe learn something
from it. It will pass – what I’m feeling,
and the rain.
And, after it’s gone, what’s eternal
will remain.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell

Tree Feathers and Swan Leaves

Tree feathers drifting
Swan leaves haloed
in sunlight slanting
through November’s
silver sky. The horns
and honks of happy
flapping trumpeters
and snow geese fills
the Skagit Valley.
This is my home.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell

Trumpeter Swans Fly over Skagit Valley