After the wind, the music

After the winds have moved on
The birds can be heard with their lovely song
They sing as if they were never heard
Had the strong winds muffled the sound of the birds?

For such a long time they held their peace
Until the rustle of the winds and the leaves deceased
But when quietness settles in
The music of the birds begins.

The air is filled with lovely sounds
Chatter, Chirps and Calls surround
They seem to be happy not fighting the wind
They sing on and on to their next of kin.

I thank God for their music that fills my soul
It lifts my spirit and takes control
Rapt in their music I slow down my pace
And am gently lead to a happy place.

– Peg Pazucha

Peg's Poetry

Forests’ Morning Sun

In the forest the morning sun comes slowly
Softly kissing the very tops of the tallest trees
Then ever so languidly drips down branch by branch
Brushing each with and warmth.

The morning sun may find a window in the pines
Through which a gentle stream of sun-rays pass
To warm a patch of earth or a night cooled body
Gently creating another day of beauty and life.

— Peg Pazucha

Peg's Poetry

Ode to Pioneers of Old / Thoughts along Interstate 90

Oh what strong and determined folk they were
Just thinking about them makes one’s imagination stir.
Traveling by any means they could
Buckboard, covered wagons, with wheels made of wood.

Guided by the sun, stars, and if lucky a hand drawn map
To an unknown place where they could hang their hat.
Towards an undetermined destination
Where fate sometimes overruled determination.

Through wind, heat, rain, or bitter cold
The pioneers embodied perseverance most bold
There were no paved roads, GPS’s, nor phones of any kind
To get them out of trouble or to just ease the grind.

There were no little towns dotting the way
That had food, fuel, or sheltered room to stay
They took with them what was necessary
Only what their horses and wagons could carry.

With hopes that their provisions would last
Weeks would turn into months, time slowly passed
They kept keeping on day after day
One foot in front of the other, little time for play.

We fly over this wonderful land in haste
In such a hurry and don’t have time to waste
Pat ourselves on the back to say “We’ve come so far”
Forgetting the pioneers who lived and worked so hard.

So, when on a long journey or even a day trip
Please pause and remember the ones who started all this
Take time to reflect and read the stories told
And give thanks to the courageous pioneers of old.

Peg wrote this a couple months ago
while we were headed Eastbound
from Oregon to Wisconsin

Peg's Poetry

At last the Schoolhouse in Cudahy is sold
We found a buyer as good as gold
With Mike and Katy’s help we moved out
They are precious to us without a doubt.

We filled the RV from basement to ceiling
So much to do, set our heads a reeling.
We moved out to Bong Recreational Center
Waiting to close one chapter and another to enter.

On June seventh we sealed the deal
It went very smoothly. Is this for real?
Have we downsized enough? Or too much?
Will we slow down, or still want to rush?

Thank you Kate and Mike and Melanie
For letting us live “on the road and free”
To head for new horizons now and then
Perhaps a circular route without an end.

Wherever the path may lead
Our heats will be with friends and family
So start ‘er up, Peter. Let the Journey begin
Of living on the road with new horizons.

Peg Pazucha
On the sale of our house