Thursday, August 25, 2016



It's captured in a sigh
this first blush of day -

nursling of eve's brooding sky
and midnight rain,

where tired dreams
and tiny thoughts

with mountain mist -

become buoyant
beyond my window;

wish (or two) refreshed
with a swish of mares' tails.

by Margaret Bednar, August 25, 2016

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Music with Marian - Little Tiny".  Our inspiration the above song.  I hope you enjoy the above song by Brandi Ediss.  She is also a photographer HERE

Note:  Mares' tails are wispy, ethereal clouds with a classic trailing shape

Saturday, August 13, 2016



It may be wine country, 
but honeybees and lavender fields
offer bounty sweet, less floral, even dark
from thin-stemmed blooms
as drunken workers with tiny purple floret's prize
fly to hillock hives.

Honey-lavender lemonade soothes my tongue,
assured worker bees have but one sting
as I tour magical fields nurturing gold.
Aggression rare, protection key;
ambassador of peace I'll be
as self-indulgent anger hastens their mortality. 

From blooms renowned for love,
devotion and purity
reverently should we sip such grace,
reflect inward, internalize and become.

by Margaret Bednar, August 13, 2016

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Sunday Mini Challenge - Which Bee?"  

Friday, August 12, 2016


The Cathedral Basilica of St. Augustine

Noon is heralded by the bell tower's toll;
most continue as tourists, unaware of the call to prayer.
I stop, wipe St. Augustine sweat from my brow,
(no similarity to Millet's two peasants
thankful for a small basket of potatoes)
shift purchased trinkets growing heavy.

Lowcountry's Baptist has carved Flemish oak
and marble altars of white Vermont,
but standing beneath four evangelists
with my Old City Market sweetgrass basket,
if I'm honest, I'm thankful for the blessed cool air.

Southern heat is historical in and of itself;
never mind preserved architecture
and stories of the past - affluent or otherwise.
Stepping into these respites from daily grind,
I feel guilty admiring stain glass windows and sanctuaries.

In the deep south, tucked away within Savannah's charming grid,
my youngest son prays before Mother Mary - straw hat upon his head.
I glance at the gentleman who labeled my sweet boy
disrespectful; dare him to press the matter.
He doesn't - and somehow I believe Jesus is pleased.

by Margaret Bednar, August 12, 2016

The "offending" hat that he didn't want to take off...
I always try and visit the Catholic Cathedrals and Basilicas in the cities I visit.  St. Augustine, Charleston and Savannah figure in this poem.  I have to confess, I've visited New York quite a few times and have yet to step inside St. Patrick's Cathedral - I've walked by it many times and have experienced huge Catholic guilt.  I will make sure I attend Mass the next time I go.

This is for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Get Listed for August" - pick three cities I have visited and write about them so I wrote about memories of different Catholic churches I have visited on my travels.

Jean-Francois Millet