Category: Thoughts

The Teacup of Today

“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”  Psalm 118:24

 In the midst of a frenzied afternoon at work today, I paused to read an email from my daughter Amy:

“I’ve been thinking about this quote a lot lately:  “This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.”  The last two words, “in it”, are what have me thinking. The phrase makes it seem like it’s a special place – a porcelain cup, specially made, specially prepared – to rejoice, to revel, to live fully in — when you are in something like a cup of tea, surrounded.”

Any given second, any given breath, we are within the walls of a day. We can’t see tomorrow – and so we can only treat it with what we can’t see – with hope (but how great is our hope when we think about Jesus)? We see only today, and our hands, and our feet, and our loved ones, and whatever else God has given us for today. “

What Amy wanted to tell me is that today is not only a special time, but a unique and wondrous place designed by God for us to live and breathe in.

The porcelain teacup of today.

I smile at the thought of today and of pink porcelain cups.

D. G. Vachal (c) 2012, 2025

Come Sit With Me Awhile

Come Sit With Me Awhile

for tomorrow
I must tend
to hearth-fires for warmth,
the spinning loom for clothing,
and bread-flour for hunger —

awhile

amidst emerald moments
while lemon blossoms glow
from topaz to gold
and cloud-like egrets
hasten on their wings
to strings
of violin marsh-winds,  
alight
upon the infinite green —

awhile

when time stands still,
seasons compress to moments
no matter the scorching heat,
no matter the numbing cold —

come sit with me awhile.


© D. G. Vachal 2023

*** photograph by Adriansart @ pixabay

I Write To Find You

I Write to Find You

Nameless sorrow,
grief unspoken,
tears flow
from boundless oceans,
torrential rains
lambaste
ebony waters —

you are gone  

I search syllables,
consonants,
vowels once spoken
by a voice beloved
reverberating still
in the chambers
of my broken heart —

only silence

weary eyes close  
at light of dawn,
your face flashes
in the clouds
of my restless
dreams until

I awaken to begin
my search
to find you
once again.

D. G. Vachal © 2023

“End of Autumn”

Igor BurdinMottled colors flutter
like butterflies,
await
the pristine white
canopies —

Wind-parched leaves
mantle the oak-brown
soil with topaz and jasper
above the dormant seeds
of wilted wildflowers —

Hearken to horse-hoof
raindrops,
the muffled fracture
of petioles letting go
at the eleventh hour

when all the coins of time
are spent
and the egrets of winter
alight
upon the emerald cedar
branches.

D. G. Vachal © 2015

Photo credit: Igor Burdin