Senior Scribes...
Lois Wilson’s Springtime  
May 13, 2012 

Once again, Senior Scribe Poet Laureate Lois Wilson offers her thoughts on a changing season... It’s springtime. She has published the first two of a planned series of four or five. The third will be available soon. 

Wilson is offering these booklets to anyone who is willing to help in the Darke County Senior Scribes’ endeavor to provide scholarships to Darke County youth. 

The Scribes is a not for profit organization dedicated to gathering funds for college scholarships to as many Darke County students as possible each year. To date, nearly $18,000 has been awarded to Darke County students pursuing careers in public communications. 

One booklet will be given for each sponsorship of $10.00 or more, or the first two for $15 or more. Sponsorships are tax deductible to the extent allowed according to IRS regulations regarding not-for-profit contributions. 

The booklets are currently available and anyone interested may contact a Scribe member, email Lois at loiswilson@darkecountyseniors.us or call Senior Scribes’ Scholarship Fund President Al Bliss at (937) 548-5687. 

SENSATIONS 

Open wide the windows, sense the spring.

Listen, the bluebirds joyfully sing.

Inhale the fresh air, fill lungs, breathe deep.

Look, the garden awakens from sleep.

Taste the raindrops fresh from a shower—

Spring scenes touch the truth of God’s power. 

                        Lois E. Wilson

                        © 2010 Lois E. Wilson
 

THE GARDENER’S CHALLENGE 

Tired of the snow,

Tired of the cold,

I’m praying for Spring

To quickly unfold.

Tired of the dark,

Tired of the kitchen,

I’ve ordered my plants;

My green thumb is twitchin’

Hope for the sun,

Hope for the scene,

I’m eager to help

Unleash the lush green.

Hope for the sprout,

Hope for the bloom,

Stand back! Old Winter,

And give us some room! 

           By Lois E. Wilson

           © 1994 Lois E. Wilson

DANDELIONS 

In early spring

There’s one sure thing—

Bright blooms of gold

Boldly unfold.

The yellow mass

Invades the grass.

No use—the digger,

They bounce back bigger.

And the best weed spray

Browns the grass—they stay.

Their resistance,

Their persistence

Prove them worthy foes.

The whirling wind blows

Floating forth their seeds

Sowing next year’s weeds.

At last the gold is gone

Leaving a luscious lawn.

Although the green is grand—

Without the blend, it’s bland!
 

        THE PLOWMAN’S PRAYER
 

 O Lord!  Thank you for this land, full and free,

Won by our forebears’ thirst for liberty.

        Help me with these strong hands and honest toil

        To gain a good life from the seasoned soil.

        As skyward I upturn each clod of earth,

Sow the seed, patiently await its birth;

        Teach me the humility I must know

         That God alone can spark the seed to grow.

From the starting sprout to the harvest golds

As each new wonder in its turn unfolds,

Ripens, protected by Your tender care,

        May I perceive Your ever-presence there.

        As the seedling stretches its leaves toward light

To soak in the sun with newborn appetite

And drinks deep from the nourishing spring rain

        Striving its imminent growth to attain,

Let me live also in the light from above;

        Wash me free from sin in the shower of Your love.

Fill me with faith, 0 Lord; let my heart forgive.

Help me grow more worthy each day that I live.

               Lois E. Wilson

               © 1952 Lois E. Wilson