Tuesday, July 23, 2019

Dreams



The dream catcher
hangs on my window,
Midas' touch turning
the cornfield into gold.

Two sunflowers volunteer
their span of time,
heads lift toward
the light shimmering
over sapphire hills.

The honeysuckle races
across the split-railed fence,
a Wind Song fragrance
fills the Brasstown Valley,
Queen Anne's lace spins doilies.

A dozen wild geese
resound over the Groves' farm,
they splash on Hiwassee River,
ripples catch the sunset
like a cathedral window.
             --Brenda Kay Ledford


Tuesday, July 2, 2019

Rondy's Pondering


Rondy's Pondering

After US Poet Laureate, Joy Harjo's, "Remember"


Ponder growing up in the shadow
of Shewbird Mountain.
Ponder the rain crow cooing
in the poplars,
drinking ice-cold water
from the spring at Hyatt-Mill Creek.
Ponder plowing the field
with 'ole Buck and Beulah,
rows of corn blades waving in the wind.
Ponder the Harvest Moon,
coon dogs resounding on Joe Knob.
Ponder the double hollyhocks decked
with ruffled dresses beside the log cabin.
Time has made a change
in the Matheson Cove.
Ponder the nine R's:
Rondy, Reba, Ralph, Robert, Rena,
Robenia, Reuben, Ray and baby Robbie.
Ponder the calling,
the calling on your life.
The torch passed to your grandson.
Ponder!

by:  Brenda Kay Ledford

This poem is about my father, Rondy Ledford.  He grew up in the Matheson Cove section of Clay County, North Carolina near Shewbird Mountain.  He and his siblings had names that began with the letter "R".  My father was a Baptist preacher and his grandson, John, has also received the calling to preach.  I just wish my father could have lived long enough to see his grandson enter the ministry.  Without sounding like I'm bragging, John is attending Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, Ky working on his Ph.D. in Divinity.  Last year he was ordained to preach.  Also, he and his professor, Dr. Fredrick Long, published an advanced Greek Reader with Translation:  "Dio Chrysostom's Kingship Oration 1," and it is available on Amazon.com.



This is a mourning dove.  Back in the mountains of Western North Carolina, old timers called this bird the rain crow.  Whenever they heard it cooing, it was believed that rain would soon begin.



This is a photo of our family.  My father is in the center , my sister , mother, brother, and the little one is myself when I was about 4 years old.  We were dressed and ready to attend church. When I grew up, church was central in our lives because my father was the pastor of many churches in Western North Carolina during the 1950s-1980's.



















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