The scent of this morning’s
Fresh plucked Magnolia blossom
Fills the room tonight.
One of my favorites…
One I cannot explain to my own satisfaction,
Much less to another.
Tonight, I am reminded of the first time I smelled Magnolia and how the adrenaline swelled through my body while Angels infused the air.
Lemon scented paradise…
It’s different tonight . I cannot lose the lump in my throat no matter how much I swallow.
The scent of Angels this Spring will remind me of my sister who lays dying
Bravely fighting the cancer ravaging her already frail form. Tears scald my cheeks as
I lift the bloom-filled globe to inhale the smell of Heaven that awaits her.
Nancilynn Saylor 2 June 2018
They did not know
when they brushed their teeth and washed their Sunday morning faces …
To join with their friends in worship
To be in a house of the Lord
As they filed into their small white
unassuming, country church
greeting each other with smiles on a bright Central Texas day
Men shaking hands
Women nodding to one
another or hugging
Maybe slipping recipes to a neighbor
before worship service was called
By the organist's opening notes.
Teenagers cast glances at their friends in other pews and innocent smiles…
No, they did not know
as they gathered together this day,
a monster lingered near.
5 November 2017
On this most recent Memorial Day weekend i spent sometime reflecting on the soldiers In my life. My maternal grandfather was a horse soldier in WW1; i have a photocopy of his draft notice snd a picture of him in uniform on a horse.
My father was in the Navy, the Army Air Corp and later the United States Air Force. He flew in planes in the Navy during WW11. He served during the Korean conflict and Viet Nam war. He was in the military his entire working career.
My uncle’s, cousins, brother, two husbands and my oldest son also served, as well as a niece. They all felt a call yo serve.
A strong thread of patriotism is woven through the fabric of my life.
No one in my immediate family died in war. My mother’s first fiance died in the second world war. A dear high school friend paid with his life in Viet Nam; another friend was one of the countless victims who returned as mere shells of the young men who left. Their minds forever scarred.
When my father was in the last year of life the Navy awarded.him some medals 70 years after he earned them. All of his five children attended the extremely moving ceremony…he hated being in the spotlight but endured the event for us kids. Less than a year he was gone; buried in the military cemetery at Fort Sam Houston. His was not the only funeral I attended in that place filled with a seemingly unending ocean of white tombstones. I suspect it will not be the last. The sound of Taps played on bugle on a gray December after a twenty one gun salute will forever be etched on my heart.
This year I needed my flag hung early. Saturday we hung it over our front porch. The next morning at Mass, there was an elderly man alone, a few rows in front of me. He had a colorful shirt on , on a grey, rainy Sunday. I was startled to notice the naval planes and ships on the shirt on the word “Midway” in red lettering. I left my seat when it was time to offer each other the sign of peace and walked up to where he was standing and touched his arm. He turned as I said “Peace be with you.” That ever present thread of patriotism will always tie me to the military. I looked in his aged eyes and saw another American hero.
Peace be with them all, now and forever.
©Nancilynn Saylor. June 6, 2017
They answered a call. kissed their mothers goodbye. Never to return…
©Nancilynn Saylor. Memorial Day 2017
Photo from Internet of VietNam memorial wall /Remembering Hank
In Sunday’s silence. before the Sun’s first kisses A desert rose blooms
Nancilynn Saylor. 28 May 2017 Austin, Texas
My Desert Rose (adenium obesum.) Pride of Madagascar
Sometimes sleep comes late into the night
then rising creates challenges.
Will my day mirror the world outside my door?
I ponder my own statement as I step into
the gray soupy fog that blankets the drive.
Out of sync with myself, morning
coffee delayed by an hour or more…
instead of a caffeine jumpstart
there is a slow roll of becoming conscious
stimulation comes bearing good news
on its wing
the vagabond poet of my youth
wins Nobel Prize
this day may swirl with fog
& perhaps later
a hard rain’s gonna fall.
© Nancilynn Saylor
Morning on the street where I live
Painted by Vincent
For the pleasure the world
From his tortured soul.
Internet Art from my favorite artist