Moss on fallen wood



Almost a perfect symbiotic

relationship between dying,

fallen tree and green moss.

New growth from old,

Reminding me of bringing

my oldest and first child,

to my grandfather’s funeral.

As we stood in the Lancaster,

Ohio cemetery, my Mom’s runny

nose was buried into Carrie Marie’s

sweet baby-scented neck. Mom’s

cries were answered by soft,

gentle baby breaths back.

November, 1980.

6 month old Carrie with

her Grammie, my Mom.

On day that I heard my grandpa

had died, I had sobbed on my bed,

As cardinal answered wish to

know, did he realize his message

would come in a cheerful song?

Life’s cycle is natural and complete.

Baby to Grandmother, giving comfort.

Cardinal bird to human Robin, also

assuaging sadness with joyful song.

Ever so beautiful, sent

straight to my heart.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

On this Good Friday, wishing those

who have walked the 40 days and

taken steps together with who

some call the Son of God:

Take comfort, His pain

is nearly over. The

stone will roll back,

new moss,

New Life.

x + x + x + x + x

Photo by Robin,
Poetic words
shared with
those who
seek Him,
from me
to *you.*

+ + +

Have a blessed
Good Friday
+ enjoy the


37 responses »

    • You pointed out a wonderful part of Moss. I like your description of another miniature world. ❤ really like how there are microcosms of life in moss, almost like how deep sea divers study coral reefs, Anneli. 🙂

  1. I can relate to the cycle of life you described. The night our grandfather passed was the eve of my first daughter’s birth early the next morning. The timing softened the blow for the whole family. – Mike

    • This was interesting how both our lives had blessings while facing losses, Mike. Thank-you for this kind message. I like the idea of softening the blow with the birth of your first daughter’s birth.

  2. Beautiful post, Robin. I see that cycle often and always notice it – the babies with the grandmothers. There’s something timeless about it. Happy holiday weekend to you and yours. ❤

    • Diana, this is sometimes like a miracle of Life. Blessings from above, babies filling in our holes in our hearts. It does seem to happen often, repeatedly. I like how you call this cycle, “timeless.”
      My oldest daughter took Skyler to the saddest funeral of a gentle but conflicted young man who committed suicide. The parents loved having baby Skyler there nearly 11 years ago.
      Thanks for your deep thoughts, Diana.

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