Any reproduction or copying of my poetry

is prohibited without explicit written permission.

A Moment of Peace 

It is still, the day is finally quiet,

The only sound is the crickets in the night,

The breeze has slowed to almost a silence,

I await the slow whistle on the kettle.

 

 It is that time I devote to myself,

Moments to clear my mind, and simply relax,

I do not like to miss the little things,

Especially those moments that sweeten my life.
 

Whether it be that hello, or that sweet smile,

That little boy makes my heart sing,

Much like that hug out of the blue from his grandpa,

These are the things near and dear to my heart.
 

 As I sip my tea I can feel myself unwind,

Remembering the conversations throughout the day,

Feeling blessed by my friends and my family makes me feel great,

We so often wait too long to be told we are important.
 

 In that moment I call my own,

I can look beyond the differences,

To give is to love,

To withhold is to wither.
 

 When I share that, which I have,

I find my life has purpose and meaning,

In those moments I take for myself,

I find peace in my heart.
 

 These are the moments,

I unselfishly give to myself.
 

A Lady Forever

Gale Hernandez

© Spring 2005

Time

Time is a slippery substance,

It slides through our fingers,

Out of our grasp,

To be seen no more.


While we can't tie time down,

We can find our own ways,

To squeeze more out of it,

Before it skips away.


I can rise with the sun,

Embrace the beauty that unfolds in a sunrise,

And I find,

It puts me in tune with nature.


To synchronize with the sun,

Will give each of us that needed energy boost,

It is long lasting,

And it will carry you through the day.


As fall begins to set in,

Our days will begin to shorten,

We can embrace all the beauty that exists,

In those glorious moments of sunshine.


Regardless of the darkness that exists.


A Lady Forever

Gale Hernandez
© October 2004

 Oak Glen

Way up above,

 in the mountain community of Oak Glen,

lies the apple orchards,

A simple little place full of shops and harvested apples,

It is that little place where one can see the leaves change,

And feel that country atmosphere of fall.
 

The aroma in that little community is enticing,

The gift shops are full of crafts and stories,

Every year in fall we love to pay a visit,

To view the beauty of fall and taste

the bounty of the harvest.
 

Fresh pressed cider is more than abundant,

The smell of cinnamon swirls in the chilling air,

A hot cup of coffee and a slice of apple pie,

Become the centerpiece at every outdoor table.
 

Conversation with the locals is wonderful,

They fill everyone in listening range in on the harvest,

I have my favorites places to visit,

And my children have always enjoyed the visit.
 

It is the only place to sip cider,

And pick up the country spices for that Halloween treat,

I couldn't imagine a haunting night without it,

For that matter neither could my children.
 

In our house it has always been about traditions,

The holidays of fall are filled with them,

The crisp air and early rain have been a blessing,

One each of us will thank God for.


For the West,

it has been a very long six years,

Yet for the ones who visit Oak Glen this year,

It has been worth the wait for fall.


A Lady Forever

Gale Hernandez
© Fall 2004

A Walk in the Park

I passed up sitting at his table,

Walking through the orchard of old oaks,

To a table unoccupied,

I wanted to sit by myself and simply write.

The small corner in life is filled by tranquility,

And both would agree,

Wondering why she sits alone in the park,

The old timer stops to introduce himself.

The old man sits down uninvited,

Beginning the conversation as if he was among friends,

He never met a writer, who writes poetry,

And I was amazed at his life story as he parted.

The lady sits alone with her thoughts,

As a young mother and her child talk about the trees history,

The aged boozer rattles and sips his brown bag under the oak,

Few remain at the ends of the symmetrical triangle.

Disembarking from the journey to nowhere,

No one waits,

Departure seems to be its only option,

And the natural powered mode of transportation stops for no one.

By merely the routine sounds,

One could set the time of day,

Giving way to the quarter past the hour,

The horns and whistles travel the slowing breeze.

The restless ruffles in the trees shake the crows loose,

Squawking black birds perch on the wire,

Gathering with their hungry brethren,

They wait for that sign of capture.

Crying out at one another,

In search of that slow moving earthworm,

Penetrating mother earths shell repeatedly,

The crows march linear through the park.

No body notices, no body cares,

Tomorrow brings the altering vision,

Each day the crows and the boozer keep company in the park,

And life continues to pass each of them by.

A Lady Forever

Gale Hernandez

© Copyright 2002

Best Friends

What is it like to live a lonely existence?

Where nothing blooms among your living days,

No sounds travel to the mind for association,

And no vision displays the beautiful colors of our world.

In a world like ours,

We tend to overlook the disabilities,

For we are so wrapped up in our today’s,

We tend to overlook, those less fortunate than ourselves.

Anytime you place two or more people in the same room,

There will eventually be a difference of opinion,

I learned at a very early age,

The descriptive meaning of sensitivity is often harsh.

It only takes a moment out of our day,

Each of us can deliver a smile to another,

And in that moment we grow a little more,

We grow for all the right reasons.

I attribute my love of nature to my childhood best friend,

I was her vision in her darkened world,

I continue to hear her lovely voice fill with excitement,

“Please be descriptive, I can still see the colors in my mind.”

She has been gone for forty years,

And yet I still feel the love of her tucked in my heart,

I think about the many years we could have shared,

Instead I am left with memories of a young life cut short.

I miss my best friend,

And I miss sharing the beauty of our world with her.

A Lady Forever

Gale Hernandez

© October 2003

Springtime in the Desert

As I watch the sun display it's beauty,

Mother Earth awakens to a beautiful spring morning,

The nights mist hovers over the horizon,

And the golden reflection penetrates the slight cloud cover.

The birds of spring are caught up in their chatter,

Beckoning the morning to awaken within the glory of spring,

Old man winter no longer visits,

And it is a shame the deserts will feel the season of drought.

One thing about desert wildflowers,

Is the fact they are patient,

They may look dried out and lifeless,

Yet under the right conditions they will bloom for years to come.

The desert delivers nature at its best,

The magenta sand verbana bursts among the white evening primrose,

The artistry in the colors is magnificent,

And simply put, breathtaking.

The desert of the west is home to the Engelmann oak,

Found no where else on this planet,

During summer the oaks will shed their own leaves of color,

They conserve water maintaining their own root system in time of drought.

Yes, the Painted Desert looks bleak and stark in the moment,

Hope springs eternal

El Nino is said to be on the horizon,

It ultimately means, the wildflowers will return with a vengeance.

A Lady Forever

Gale Hernandez

Copyright ©2002