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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
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