Poems by Regina M. Elliott

Of humanity's many members,
of smoky mountains standing in the clouds,
of the heavens You sprinkled with an infinity
of stars,
and valleys of the goodness of crops and
the moonlit magnolia trees,
oceans, lakes, rivers, and streams came
to life from You.
Of the joy of birds at the feeder,
I love You first.

My Jesus, my Christ,
the bats whoosh out of their caves at
twilight in their hunting of insects,
my grandchildren play on summer's
lawns with buttercups dotting the
expanse,
whilst autumn stirs in his slumber,
as the days age more for me,
I love You first.

You're my morning star,
my evening comfort,
I adore You most sweetly,
You came for me when others didn't,
to rescue me from the hurt and the
mourning for the earth and her people,
her animals,
as hatred, as war, as pollution mars
her glorious face,
I love You first.

You, Dearest Redeemer, Deliverer,
sent some of Your angels to watch
over us-
in frosted nights,
and in spring's awaited rebirth,
Truest One, my heart in reverence
to You,
I love You, always first.

Stepping through the pine and holly wreathed front
entrance of the homeless shelter,
as a Christmas Eve snowfall decorated the city,
I carried a fresh turkey,
I heard joyous singing of adults and children as the
warmth of the lobby with a splendid bright Christmas
tree filled my spirit.
There was also the baritone voice of a man with
such a generous hearty laugh.
I became momentarily distracted by a t.v. on
low volume playing the vintage animated
"Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer" movie.

When suddenly a scent of peppermint and nutmeg
delighted my nose,
a flash of antique-red and faux fur white trim with
a long curly snow-white beard swirled that sparkled
with ice crystals.
There was a thumping on the roof,
and a resounding jingle of many bells.

I felt Christmases of long ago were here again,
a six year old me meticulously placing decorated
sugar snowmen cookies and hot cocoa by the
burning fireplace for St. Nicholas to pause and
enjoy,
I was soon asleep after laying down in my bed.
I know I just saw him there at the shelter,
the children weren't sleepy that Christmas Eve,
there appeared so many presents under the tree,
as their parents drank coffee finishing up servings
of pumpkin pie topped with whipped cream.

We can see Santa Claus year-round in so many
people,
you can feel him in someone's hug,
in the benevolence of family, friends, and
some strangers.
In giving of time or charity in food, money,
an embrace,
someone comforting you,
a pet cuddling you.
I know I saw him,
and so do many of you-
in the Christ Child we have peace.

Kings and queens of the timberland,
their pups learning their royal birthright,
running, running in freedom's natural gift,
as the winter ochre moon rises above the
ridge,
the pack howling in unison,
a music so enthralling.
Crystal blue eyes shudder the dawn,
please don't kill my wolves.

Oh, God no!
I cannot bear the thunderous rifles,
as they fell my spirit animals.
My heart asunder,
my soul bleeds with them in the
crimson snows.
Please don't kill my wolves,
Native American songs echo
through the pine forests as
their lamentation cries out-
please, please don't kill our wolves!

The souls of the seas are committed to their
maritime dwell,
and the reflected tides shall bear stars on
silent waves that mourn.
I expired in sorrow's seizing of my life,
and now my grieving for humanity has
left my earthly body.
My soul journeys to beloved Yeshua-
as the merpeople attend my seashell bier
in the summer temperate of the
vasty Atlantic's heart.

North Carolina ballerina,
sweet lady of the Piedmont,
she, so sterling,
died from the selfishness
of a drunk driver.
Gliding into a pirouette,
as she entered God's garden
of youth.

The anguish tatters the sails
of my psyche,
as the rain gently descends
from a sorrowing ash sky.
I drink the bitter taste of loss
from the goblet of the ages,
no, please no, she was a
precious one.

The dew glistens on the
white-hued roses of
maiden innocence,
as if tears on an
infant's cheeks.
Elena, our ballerina
of grace,
Death passes into life,
your beauty of a June
magnolia blossom,
charming the angels who
attend you.

Elena, Elena,
your lovely dancer's legacy,
still dwells in our midst,
Your name whispered in
summer's evefall starry music.

Of her gifts of nature,
once pristine flowing streams,
her green and blue majestic presence
in the infinite universe.
Jesus Christ left her in our care,
we must act now, not later-
for her survival.

Her earthly soul mourns as her
animals suffer, humans too,
her royal oceans with precious
marine life's waters sullied,
her rainforests plundered.
We must, as humanity,
rectify our trespasses against her.

Her polar regions sweating,
breaking off icebergs,
many of her kingdom species
endangered.
Stop the greed and the smokestacks
choking her air,
halt the pillaging of her resources-
for her survival.

o the vast lawns of white stones silent....
as a sparrow tends to her new clutch

only in engraving they speak soldiers' names....
and the wars they fell in

men and women of brave....as the bugle weeps
in taps too young in sleep

hearts in cadence stilled....wars are storming
bastards of fire roaring death

soldiers' stories whispered in....aligned
standing rows of everlasting