In posting the prompt last Sunday, never did we think it would take on a different significance before these selections would be posted. True Silence came to fruition with the news of our loss of Dyson McIllwain (  Where we looked for this “true silence” to offer us peace, Mr. McIllwain found silence because of his peace. Where does your peace lie? We’ve explored that topic and celebrate the many fine works provided. These are the BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS:


Poetic responses to this prompt have been a joy and comfort to read – each and every poet entering with his or her own serenity-inducing offerings.  Walt posed the thought, “Take us to your happy place, and let’s see if it works for us.”  I must say that the very reading of your poems took me to a “happy place,” and I thank you all.  I had four poems that I thought particularly thoughtful and well expressed.  Taking it down to one was no easy task, but I finally chose one of the four:  David De Jong’s “Rows of Comfort.”  This is a poem to be read slowly and contemplatively.  David brings life to being on one’s knees, tilling the soil, “softly tending nature’s yield, earnestly praying in the field.”  My heart and spirit relate, finding the most peace and contentment in my Creator, His creation, and the humbling realization that “my Savior weeds my past.”  David, your fitting correlation of being on one’s knees caring for the land, and kneeling in humble prayer is simply-yet-exquisitely expressed.  It gives me great pleasure to offer you my Bloom.

Rows of Comfort by David De Jong

What comforts what consoles?
What brings calm to grievous souls?
To find relief from mental toil
Kneel between the rows, till the soil
Shuffling knees, the smell of dirt
Worry soaking through my shirt
Softly tending nature’s yield
Earnestly praying in the field
Ah for a man to be on his knees
Interpreting summer evening breeze
Harkened whispers of soft spoken leaves
Scents of freedom the clouds over-sees
Watching eagles grace the crest of trees
Who am I, surely the least of these?
Given purpose, our Creator’s ease
His glory abounds upon our knees
Each row done a prayer complete
Slow to stand on trembled feet
Worries removed and cast aside
Weeds of Eve’s tempter’s pride
Each row stand clean, strong and fast
Just as my Savior weeds my past


All kinds of things can bring questions of mind and anguish of heart. And in times like this our solace can be found in the simplest of circumstances. In the gentle sway of a rocking chair we can be given the sanctuary to ease our souls. Barbara Young expresses this well in a poem whose title is as quirky as it is artful. For this great combination, I present Barbara with my BLOOM.

She Is Not a Dog Barking in the Night, or a Star   by Barbara Yates Young

Wars, greed, starvation. Pendulum
depression, joint pain: she can’t sleep.

Lies stiff and close eyed. Dark trains arch
far river bridges, east then south,

their horns like hounds she remembers
hearing from a winter bedroom

bell the cold hills, ice dog stars
barking as if with joy. She wraps

more warmth around aching shoulders
and imagines hickory fire
and a room nodding with a rocking chair.


Congratualtions David and Barbara for your BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS.