One of the exercises in my creativity group last year was to incorporate the title of a song into a poem. This one reflects a favorite hymn that was not in the anthology of those we sang in my childhood, but I learned as an adult and came to love. I love to sing, in choirs, in the car, at bedsides. I am grateful that I can carry a tune!

A Hymn Comes to Mind

Trudging for hours on a rocky trail, 
reaching the mountain’s crown, 
my body exhausted but spirit won’t fail 
to celebrate with a song. 

My grandchild sags drowsy within my arms, 
the lullabies doing their duty.
He sleepily asks for just one more 
instinctively craving the beauty.

I’ve stood with the rest in community choir, 
our voices raised strong to proclaim 
the breathtaking message of Handel’s “Messiah,” 
the glory of Jesus’ name.

But holier still is a quiet room 
with a family softly crying; 
I form the words of a well-loved tune 
to their dear one as she lies dying.

A mountain view, a child’s nap time, 
or consolation bringing—
whether soft or loud, random or rhymed, 
how can I keep from singing?