Old barns have a history all their own, Where hay once piled and tobacco was grown. Cows, horses, sheep, and goats alike, Made it home through day and night.
On barn-raising day, it gleamed so bright, A sturdy frame in morning light. But years of storms, of wind and rain, Have left their mark, a lasting stain.
Now the beams are worn, the paint has peeled, The echoes of life no longer revealed. But in my heart, those days remain, Bringing a tear, a sweet, soft pain.
For though the barn now stands in rust, Its memory holds a sacred trust. A symbol of toil, of life once shared, Where love and labor stood prepared.
Old barns may fade, but never die, For in our hearts, they still stand high. A testament to days gone by, Bringing a tear to my grateful eye.
In the quiet woods where shadows fall, A woodpecker's tale begins to call, To the task at hand with patient care, Finding a tree that stands tall and fair.
The deadwood trunk, a hollowed prize, Beneath the gaze of autumn skies, Becomes the canvas, rough and true, For a winter's feast in every hue.
With careful beak and measured pace, The woodpecker starts to carve its place, Each hole a cradle, snug and tight, Neither too large nor small in height.
Too wide, the thieves would have their way, Too small, the bounty would decay, So, in between, with master’s hand, The woodpecker crafts a storage grand.
Summer's end, the work complete, The ripened acorns, smooth and sweet, Are tucked within the wooden walls, In secret chambers, nature’s halls.
Fifty thousand, a mighty store, The woodpecker's winter—famine no more. And as the cold winds start to sing, The bird will rest, content with spring.
A testament to patience, skill, And nature’s will in seasons still, The woodpecker's legacy, so fine, Is etched in bark, a steadfast sign.
In shadows deep, where wild winds sigh, A pack emerges, howls to the sky. We are the guardians, hearts unchained, To save the wolves, our spirits trained.
In forests dense and mountains high, We hear their calls, their mournful cry. With strength and grace, they roam the night, A symbol of nature’s ancient might.
Our small band, with hearts so bold, A tale of love and care unfolds. To repopulate, to save, to mend, These noble creatures, our dearest friends.
We bring them food, we bring them cheer, To keep them safe, to keep them near. No hunter’s snare, no poacher’s game, Shall dim their light, or taint their name.
For in their eyes, a world we see, Of wild and free, of destiny. With every step, with every breath, We stand against their threatened death.
Together strong, we forge our way, To brighter nights and safer days. A promise made, a vow to keep, To guard the wolves, awake, asleep.
So let the world hear our refrain, A song of hope, amidst the rain. For we, the pack, shall always strive, To keep the spirit of wolves alive.
In Yellowstone's embrace, where wild spirits roam, A rare white buffalo is born, prophecy's tome. Lakota voices whisper through the windswept grass, A sacred sign emerges, as ages past.
A calf of snowy white, a vision pure, A symbol of hope, of times to endure. Blessing bestowed, yet a cautionary tale, A call to protect where the wild ones prevail.
Chief Arvol Looking Horse speaks with ancient grace, His words a solemn echo in this hallowed place. "This birth," he says, "is both blessing and warning, A dawn of better times, yet a sign of mourning."
The earth's heart beats with each creature's plight, Guardians of nature must rise to the fight. For in this calf's eyes, we see a plea, To shield our world, to let it be free.
So let us heed this sacred birth's decree, To honor and safeguard all we see. For in the white buffalo, a truth profound, Better times await, if we protect this ground.
This is a photo of them together with their new children. Credit: Bishop Family Farm
Sad night last night, shadows deep, The ewe’s heart heavy, unable to sleep, Her lamb, stillborn, gone too soon, She cried through the night, under the moon.
In dawn's soft light, a new hope gleams, For sorrow yields to brighter dreams, The ewe on the right, with twins so small, Has heard the grieving mother's call.
A gift of love, so pure and kind, One tiny lamb, now reassigned, From mother’s heart to mother’s care, A bond of life, beyond compare.
Now brighter days, with joy in sight, Two mothers share the morning light, One grieving heart, now healed by grace, As love and life find their place.
In fields of green, beneath the sky, Two mothers watch their lambs run by, A story told of loss and gain, Of tender hearts, through joy and pain.
Animals are incredible, showing respect more than some, With hearts that speak a language to which we often succumb. Bill Brock spoke of a moment, profound and silently still, A grave site visited, a testament to a will.
He walked with his companion, a creature of gentle grace, Though never knowing death's shadow, it found a solemn place. The dog lay down in reverence, an instinctive silent plea, As if it understood the weight of the sacred cemetery.
In stillness, there was wisdom, in quiet, there was a bond, A photo captured the essence, a moment to be fond. For sometimes in their silence, animals understand, Respecting life's great mysteries, more than many in this land.
So let us learn from creatures, their simple, profound respect, In moments of deep sorrow, their actions we reflect. For in their silent reverence, they teach us to be kind, To honor life and memory, with love and peace of mind.
God makes my little tail wiggle with delight, In the morning's glow, or the soft moonlight. Life's twists and turns, we cannot foresee, Yet love's gentle touch sets our spirits free.
A dog’s love, pure and true, like heaven’s grace, Brings joy to our hearts, a warm embrace. They teach us kindness, patience, and care, In their eyes, we find a love so rare.
Through wagging tails and playful barks, They light up our lives, leave lasting marks. They give us love, unconditionally, And we return it, naturally.
But there's more to this bond, so deep and strong, In their presence, we feel we belong. For in loving them, we learn to be kind, To open our hearts, and broaden our mind.
God’s hand in each moment, subtle yet clear, Through the love of a dog, He draws us near. They make us better, their love is divine, In their company, God’s blessings shine.
So, cherish each moment, each wag of the tail, For in loving them, we can never fail. God makes my little tail wiggle, it's true, Through the love of a dog, His love shines through.
In the fading light of a working day's end, A lonely figure, small and astray, Amidst the asphalt's cold, indifferent gray, A little soul with no one to defend.
No collar grace his neck, no friend in sight, Just ceaseless cries that filled the evening air, A plea for rescue from the depths of despair, A beacon of need in the swift falling night.
To the vet we went, a hope newly found, His identity unknown, a mystery deep, No chip to reveal a name to keep, In his eyes, a silence profound.
So I whispered a promise soft and clear, "Let's be a family, you and I," Underneath the vast, unending sky, A pact sealed with joy, a future near.
Now he sleeps, in a bed gently laid, Dreams weaving through each peaceful breath, From streets cold with neglect to warmth 'neath my eaves, In dreams, he frolics, unafraid.
His first photo captures a smile so sweet, A moment of bliss, pure and true, Thankful for a life begun anew, A journey of love with more to greet.
Thank you, little one, for choosing me, In the unexpected hour, you came to stay, Animals choose us, in their own special way, Together, a new chapter, a family.
