Flower Chorus

 A canopy of poplar trees

line dancing in key-lime

garments as the songbirds give

a mountain spring concert.

Cody conducts "Lord of the Dance,"

as Nolan plays the flute,

a chorus of tulips bursts forth

from earth's dark tomb.

Dogwoods wash the hills

with snow as trillium

clog in pink slippers,

a doe and spotted fawn

drink from Hyatt-Mill Creek.

A soft breeze brushes my face,

robins hip-hop in verdant grass,

and the chords of nature resound.

                  --Brenda Kay Ledford

I wish all my blogger friends a beautiful and Happy Spring!

Brenda 

Brenda Kay Ledford's Book Released

 Brenda Kay Ledford's new book, "Leatherwood Falls, Blue Ridge Mountain Poems," has been released by Kelsay Books.

This book is a memoir of Ledford's brother, Harold Ledford, who passed away two years ago.  He was a US Army veteran of Vietnam and a law enforcement officer in Clay County, NC for 30 years until his retirement.

According to  Glenda C. Beall, North Carolina Writer's Network-West Program Coordinator, "Brenda Kay Ledford takes the reader on a mountain hike where she names the wildflowers, birds, through the eyes of her beloved brother.  She takes us to childhood days  and as he left for Vietnam.  We see an ordinary man who is not ordinary in the eyes  of his sister.  Ledford writes in various poetic forms staying true to  her task of honoring her brother.  Like most mountain families, they are close and death  will never end the love they share."

You may purchase this book at:  www.amazon.com

Brenda Kay Ledford' beloved, big brother, Harold Ledford.

Mountain Spring

 Mountain Spring

Nature pulled out all the stops:

the robins hopping

across the verdant grass,

the mourning dove cooing

in the greening woods,

the chatter of songbirds,

a cloud of blackbirds

soaring over the maples

bursting forth with rubies.

Hyatt-Mill Creek laughing,

the spring peppers croaking,

and the Blue Ridge Mountains

breaking out with new life.

The Bradford pear trees

blooming like ice-cream cones,

jonquils popping up as lemon drops.

The yellow bell bush ringing,

a choir of cardinals singing:

spring pulled out all the stops.

Listen.  Look.  Stop.

                 --Brenda Kay Ledford

Hopefully, spring is coming early here in western North Carolina.  I hope all my blogger friends will have a beautiful spring soon.

Spring Dreams

 

SPRING DREAMS

Today I dream of spring:

tulips burning like fire

in the majestic mountains.

I celebrate the promise

of spring in midwinter:

the robins singing and flocking 

across my lawn 

like orange blankets.

The purple tulips

will pop up as blackberries

from the hard, cold ground.

"Winter can't last forever,"

the bulbs seem to say.

Knockout roses are just

waiting to put on a show

across the countryside.

The jonquils wearing golden

garments won't be upstaged.

They will spread churned

butter among the verdant grass.

Hold on just a little longer.

Nature gives her promise

that she will breakdance

in bold colors sooner than later.

                    --Brenda Kay Ledford 

Story Published in Good Old Days

 Wishing all my blogger friends a very Merry Christmas and  Happy New Year.

Some of you may subscribe to the "Good Old Days Magazine."  My story, "Special Fashion Show," appeared in the January/February 2023 print issue.   If you get the magazine, you might want to  read my true story about hand me down clothes.  

Peace and Joy to you this season!

Brenda 

Kristy's Christmas

 Snowflakes twirled like feathers over the Blue Ridge Mountains.  Christmas was coming in two days and I had a bushel of clothes to wash.  I lugged my baskets into the laundry mat.  A little blonde-headed girl held the door.  Her blue eyes sparkled when she smiled.

She watched me put my laundry into the washing machines and asked my name.

"Brenda.  What's your name?"

"Kristy, and I'm five," she said and held up her hand.

Ornaments glittered on the tiny Christmas tree that the attendant put on a table.  I hummed, "Jingle Bells."

Kristy gazed at the tree with sad eyes.  "I won't have Christmas."

An elderly lady limped to Kristy and hugged her.  "It's okay.  Don't cry, baby."

I gave the woman a sympathetic look.  "Are you her grandmother?"

"Yes, she lives with me.  Her parents died in a car crash.  We won't have much of a Christmas.  Can't afford it."

When the little girl and her grandma left the laundry mat, the attendant told me they lived in a modest house on Shooting Creek.  She whispered that at one time they parked a car in the woods and lived in it.

Our church filled a box with canned goods, gift cards, and wrapped presents for Kristy.  We delivered the box on Christmas Eve.

Little Kristy clapped her hands and ripped the paper off her presents.  She danced across the porch with her doll and teddy bear.  She had a joyful Christmas!

by:  Brenda Kay Ledford

This story appeared in "Joy to All," a poetry and prose anthology, printed by:  Old Mountain Press

I wish all my blogger friends a very Merry Christmas and Joyful New Year!

Brenda 

The Color Brown

 

November drapes the Blue Ridge Mountains with a tapestry of maroon, gold, and brown.  It weaves a mat of tan threads on the soybean field that's ready to harvest.

Two squirrels chase each other around a tree trunk, leap on a carpet of leaves, and scamper with walnuts into the woods.  The waking sun ricochets through a handful of golden foliage.

Autumn fades into earth tones.  These butternut colors depress some people because they announce the arrival of winter.

But my daddy's favorite color was brown.  He ran a bulldozer and loved the dirt.  Maybe it's because he was down-to-earth and made no pretense.  Kind, generous, and grateful were his qualities.

He passed away  on Thanksgiving Day.  This holiday will always hold a hollow place in my heart.  If it  had been possible, Daddy would have chosen this day to enter heaven.

Created from the earth, returning to the earth, and springing forth from the earth.  The cycle of life.

It's no wonder Daddy's favorite color was brown.

I wish all my blogger friends a blessed Thanksgiving!

Brenda