Morning’s song awakens me. Outside my bedroom windows, birds chirp a happy song into the silence of dawn’s awakening, as if in welcoming back the light, they are singing praises to earth’s indefatigable journey around the sun.

It is early. Night still lingers and I lay still. Cocooned in my bed, the gentle breathing of my beloved quietly measuring the moments of awakening with their steady thrum.

Quietly, I slip from between the covers, pad barefoot into the kitchen, turn on the light above the stove, the halo of its soft glow casting back the shadows from where I begin my morning ritual of making coffee.

The world feels quiet outside the safe enclosure of our home. I have not yet read the news, not yet caught up on the happenings, out there, somewhere beyond the security of these four walls.

I cling to the silence. Wrap myself in the stillness and savour these last few moments of serene calm.

The world can wait.

For now, morning light beckons me to sink into contemplation. To slowly release night’s lingering shadows into dawn’s early light.

I breathe.


Still, I wait.

Still, I let the world’s woes recede as I sit embraced within dawn’s soft silent light.

Dawn's Unfurling
©2023 Louise Gallagher

morning waits
cerulean sky
stretched out
reaching for the light
above leafy branches
for the sun’s
welcome kiss
to caress green fronds
to unfurl
beyond where I sit

in dawn’s early light
chases away
night’s lingering shadows
pressing back against
dawn's approach.

I sit
in silent communion
wrapped within 
dawn’s early light
across a cerulean sky.

My weather app said it was going to be warmer today.

Now it says tomorrow.

I lie in bed sip the latte my beloved made me. Furnace hums. Sun streams in through the open blinds of one of our bedroom windows.

Daylight savings time rises later. I want to stay under the covers.

The muse urges me to open my eyes and rise.

Flow Like The River
By Louise Gallagher

behind eyes
holds onto
but the darkness.

Closed off 
I sit
eyes shut
holding back 
I dare not release
they will flow 
like the river

I swallow
my fear
and open my eyes

tears fall
and I am set free
to flow
like the river
into Love

Tomorrow’s Promise ( a Poem)

Tomorrow's Promise
by Louise Gallagher

Mellow evening light
orb of sunlight
the horizon
hide behind naked trees’
lacelike branches 
all who travel
its snow-covered paths

Walking silently
in nature’s garden
I breathe in the beauty
of winter’s
frosty breath
with the heat
of a long kiss 
fending off
an inevitable farewell
opening to the possibility of
spring’s promised unfurling.

I cannot change the seasons
I can only walk in nature’s beauty
savouring the light
through each day
like a river
carrying the promise
of new tomorrows.

Feeling the Friday Frolics

I begin, as I often do, without a clue as to what I am going to write. Trusting in the process, I let the words flow knowing, they will. They always do when I get out of my head and into my heart.

And my heart is saying, it’s Friday. Let’s enjoy a Friday Frolic,

And, because I met with my writing circle last night, I thought I’d share a poem I crafted. It’s one of those “I’m not sure where that came from but it’s fun!”

Which really does make for the best kind of writing experience. To just let go and let flow! Words. Images. Thoughts. Ideas.

The poem was inspired by a poem by Paige Lewis, I’m Not Faking My Astonishment, Honest, Every time we meet in the circle, our amazing guide, Ali Grimshaw, of the blog, Battery Flashlights, reads us a poem to trigger our creative responses.

Here’s what happened for me when I let “I’m Not Faking My Astonishment, Honest.” lead me into writing without knowing where my pen was going.

Thank you to my writing circle guides. You constantly inspire and excite me to keep on turning up, writing and exploring life through words and images..

I Don’t Know Where I’m Going
©2023 Louise Gallagher 

I took a trip
but didn’t know where I was going
and found myself lost 
how to get somewhere
I didn’t know
because I didn’t know
I wanted to go there.

Confused, I phoned a friend
but they hadn’t planned on my calling
while I was on my trip to nowhere
and were not home
so didn’t answer
leaving me even more confused
about where I wanted to plan to go.

Lost in planning how to get somewhere
I didn’t know where I was going
I gave up on getting anywhere
and stayed where I was
until I could think of 
a better plan.


From Where I Sit

From where I sit
face lit with the glow of my laptop screen
my fingers gliding across the keyboard
the soft chanting of Advent songs playing in the background
the steady welcoming hum of the furnace protecting me from the cold
lights flickering as cars cross the bridge carrying people into their day
misty air rising from the river flowing sluggishly between ice-clad banks
naked trees standing tall along its edges 
stretched out branches frozen into awkward shapes
like children frozen in a game of Freeze Tag on a hot summer’s day.
sun kissed clouds stretch out above the tree tops.
river mist rises in ethereal white wisps gracefully flowing like a river through the air

This is the beauty of my morning.
This is the world that surrounds me.
This is my morning light moving from darkness into day.

I watch the lights flicker, the river valiantly fight against becoming ice
hear the music full of voices chanting and violins humming
feel the warm air wafting from the furnace beneath my desk
from where I sit 
in awe 
of the sun 
lightening the dark surrounding nature’s delicate frozen dance 
as I sit 
in nature's bounty 
all my senses full of its breath-taking beauty

This day is soaked in wonder, awe and magic.
Let it flow. 

A Solstice Prayer

A Solstice Prayer
by Louise Gallagher
On this long dark night ending

dawn waits

pregnant with the promised shift

of the earth turning

on its axis

beginning again 

the journey

from darkness into light.

On this long dark night ending

may your heart hear

the earth tuning in

to the beat of your heart 

calling you back

into the light spreading out

across a distant horizon

awakening you

to the dreams that lay 

dormant in the darkness.

Still (an Advent poem)

We are on the edge of a winter blast descending. Just in time for Christmas!

Except, the promise is that by Christmas day, it will turn less frigid but not balmy.

It is the winter season here at the foot of the Canadian Rockies. Temperatures climb and plummet. Climb and plummet. And we adapt. And even in our adaptations we accept, grumbling is acceptable. Grumbling can be the norm.

Skies hang grey and sullen, clouding the sun like a teenager sulking in their room after being grounded.

Ice is slowly inching out from the river’s banks and gravel bars closing the gaps between land and water.

And the world waits.

My Saturday mood is full of anticipation. We are putting up the tree and decorating tomorrow evening. My youngest daughter, hopefully C.C.’s son and girlfriend and maybe even my sister and her husband will join in the festivities.

For me, this is Christmas. It’s not about the gifts. It’s about. gathering with those near and dear to us, creating memories, sharing meals and laughter and being part of something magical that embraces us in its beauty and joy.

In this Saturday morning mood, the muse visited and I heeded her call…

By Louise Gallagher ©2022

Almost still
held captive between a season
of bounty 
losing its strength
against winter ice
lined up like an army 
ready to advance
across the river’s flow
captured by winter
advancing with its relentless
Arctic breath.

Behind front doors
strung with festive boughs
and twinkling lights
we wait
the light will return to
winter burnished skies
held captive within
the longest night’s
turning back
towards the light.

In the depths
of long dark night of winter 
someone whispers 
a child is coming
and the world holds 
its collective breath
captive in the hope
this child
will bring love, peace and joy
for all the world
to know
winter passes,
spring thaws,
and summer blossoms
turn with the season’s passing
into autumn’s bounty.

The Circle of Life Carries On

The Circle of Life Carries On
by Louise Gallagher
“Help me! I’m falling,” called the leaf to the limb.

The limb whispered back, “You must let go and let Mother Nature catch you.”

“But it will be the end of me,” cried the leaf.

“Hang on or let go, your life will end,” said the limb. “It is nature’s way..”

Frightened, the leaf clung tighter to the limb 
as the autumn winds blew fierce.

The limb shook, the leaf fell and nature had its way.

Winter came followed by spring bursting 
with leaves unfolding. 

The circle of life carries on, unending.

It is the Season

It is the Season
©2022 Louise Gallagher

It is the season
of budding

new growth 

as downy feathers
on a gosling’s breast
of life

beneath sun-soaked days
stretched out

along the sands

of time
slipping effortlessly

from winter’s  grasp
erasing all memory
of long dark nights

for spring 
to awaken
with its promise

of life
circling back

into itself
again and again.

I Do Not Want To Read Of War…

I Do Not Want To Read Of War
©2022 Louise Gallagher

I do not want to read of war
I do not want to hear the stories
look at the photos
watch the videos
see the bodies
lying in the streets
the animals left behind and killed
the homes destroyed
the buildings demolished
I do not want to know of its power
to desecrate
and destroy
Dreams. Hope. Life.

I do not want to look away.

To look away is to deny
the horror of what is happening
to people
just like me
who live and work and love and play
who walk their dogs 
and hold the hands of the ones they love
and caress the faces of their children and grandchildren
who go to work
and drive to the grocery store
or walk to their favourite coffee shop 
to spend an hour or two visiting with friends.

I do not want to cry
for the fathers, sons and daughters
who put down the tools of their trades,
their studies and their work
to don battle dress and guns.
I do not want to weep 
for the children and their mothers 
and the elderly and disabled 
with whom they huddle
in bomb-shelters and barns and basements
waiting for release
waiting for a time when bombs
do not desecrate
and destroy
Dreams. Hope. Life.

But I must
look and see and bear witness
I must acknowledge
what is happening
so that I can hold
this hurting world
in arms and words and thoughts
that do not 
or destroy
Dreams. Hope. Life.

So that perhaps,
one day,
the children and their mothers
the grandparents and disabled,
the fathers, sons and daughters
can return
to rebuild their lives
in peace.