December 2018
Author's Note: I’ve written lots for and about my grandchildren. In November it was my privilege to introduce to you to James, Max and Eleanor. Now I’m pleased to introduce my other three, Bella, Emmanuel and Jett.
Bella. Photo by Prue Creighton.
Bella
~ for Bella McDonald ~
She kneels
amongst the strawberries,
sunshine in her hair.
“I can do it Pa.”
Her little hand takes the plant
and parts the rich earth.
She snuggles in close.
Her arms encircle my neck.
I feel her eyes shine.
Ten thousand thousand
small, miraculous moments
fill my heart with joy.
First published at Peacock Journal
~ for Bella McDonald ~
She kneels
amongst the strawberries,
sunshine in her hair.
“I can do it Pa.”
Her little hand takes the plant
and parts the rich earth.
She snuggles in close.
Her arms encircle my neck.
I feel her eyes shine.
Ten thousand thousand
small, miraculous moments
fill my heart with joy.
First published at Peacock Journal
Emmanuel. Photo by Ben Creighton.
Emmanuel.
~ for Emmanuel Creighton. ~
I.
Emmanuel is Born.
Little Emmanuel,
asleep in your cradle,
milennia ago a prophet
wrote of a Prince of Peace
whose counsel was wonderful,
whose just reign would never cease,
whose wisdom and understanding
was such that it seemed as if God
dwelt in this frail and human world.
The prophet named him Emmanuel,
“God with us.”
What then would I have for you
who carry greatness in your name?
Not ease, for strength and power
comes through adversity overcome.
Nor great wealth, for true riches
never lie in the deceptive glitter of things.
I would have you grow daily in mind
until in judgment you are wise and just
and in disposition gentle and kind.
Desire them, search for them,
for in them are the essence
of your great name,
little Emmanuel.
II.
Emmanuel at Five.
You leap and land
surely and lightly.
Your little arms thrust out.
“Body weight,” you say.
You take a ninja stance.
You swirl your plastic sword
in patterns above your head.
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
You are waging the war
of good and evil.
Go forth, little warrior.
Fight the darkness.
There’s plenty around.
We need your light.
Shine it, live it, be it,
little Emmanuel.
~ for Emmanuel Creighton. ~
I.
Emmanuel is Born.
Little Emmanuel,
asleep in your cradle,
milennia ago a prophet
wrote of a Prince of Peace
whose counsel was wonderful,
whose just reign would never cease,
whose wisdom and understanding
was such that it seemed as if God
dwelt in this frail and human world.
The prophet named him Emmanuel,
“God with us.”
What then would I have for you
who carry greatness in your name?
Not ease, for strength and power
comes through adversity overcome.
Nor great wealth, for true riches
never lie in the deceptive glitter of things.
I would have you grow daily in mind
until in judgment you are wise and just
and in disposition gentle and kind.
Desire them, search for them,
for in them are the essence
of your great name,
little Emmanuel.
II.
Emmanuel at Five.
You leap and land
surely and lightly.
Your little arms thrust out.
“Body weight,” you say.
You take a ninja stance.
You swirl your plastic sword
in patterns above your head.
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
You are waging the war
of good and evil.
Go forth, little warrior.
Fight the darkness.
There’s plenty around.
We need your light.
Shine it, live it, be it,
little Emmanuel.
Jett. Photo by Catherine MacDonald.
Wake Up, Little Man.
~ For Jett MacDonald, - when he was about 20 months. ~
Wake up, little man,
there’s exploring to be done.
That pile of dirt in the distance
is Everest’s foothill, the narrow gap
between the post and gate
is where a crevice dangerously winds,
but here she comes to take you away,
saying it’s too dangerous to climb today.
Later there are prizes to be won
if you can open the door
and scurry off up the hill
to wealth beyond measure,
your Nanna’s fridge filled
with things sweet to eat.
But she’s here again, kissing,
murmuring about sleep,
saying it’s late, it’s time for bed,
promising tomorrow to lock
the doors of the shed.
Now snuggle in, little man,
she’s wrapping you up tight,
giving you Elly the Elephant
for company in the night.
Your eyes get heavy.
Your breathing goes quiet.
She looks at you and murmurs
“He’s so cute when he’s sleeping,
really, really lovely,”
but we think, little man,
that for all of your dream time
you’re finding sweet treasures
and high mountains to climb.
~ For Jett MacDonald, - when he was about 20 months. ~
Wake up, little man,
there’s exploring to be done.
That pile of dirt in the distance
is Everest’s foothill, the narrow gap
between the post and gate
is where a crevice dangerously winds,
but here she comes to take you away,
saying it’s too dangerous to climb today.
Later there are prizes to be won
if you can open the door
and scurry off up the hill
to wealth beyond measure,
your Nanna’s fridge filled
with things sweet to eat.
But she’s here again, kissing,
murmuring about sleep,
saying it’s late, it’s time for bed,
promising tomorrow to lock
the doors of the shed.
Now snuggle in, little man,
she’s wrapping you up tight,
giving you Elly the Elephant
for company in the night.
Your eyes get heavy.
Your breathing goes quiet.
She looks at you and murmurs
“He’s so cute when he’s sleeping,
really, really lovely,”
but we think, little man,
that for all of your dream time
you’re finding sweet treasures
and high mountains to climb.
© 2018 Neil Creighton
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