Janice Mathis lives in Acworth, GA with her husband of 39 years. She is a Medical Assistant and Referral Coordinator for a private Physician group. She has no formal education in writing but finds poetry an emotional outlet. She finds inspiration in her love of nature and family.

She has published two collections of poetry and had works published with Alien Buddha Press, Impspired Magazine, and Sweetycat Press, as well as various other print Anthologies.

All We Have

I sit at my desk gazing out the window,
contemplating the poem I just read.
There, hangs a crescent moon-shaped
suncatcher, which sends iridescent
rainbows shimmering across the glass.
I view the day in multi-colored hues.

The overcast morning has become sunny
afternoon, as the low-hanging clouds
thin and break apart into wispy tendrils,
sweeping the sky blue.

The suncatcher had been a gift to me,
but this morning the sunlight couldn't shimmer
through the crystal as it does now. Nor will it again.
This is the only time it will catch the light just so.
I see this too is a gift...this fleeting moment.
This shining now.

Golden Shores

This has long been your
family's vacation destination.
Your grandmother gathered shells
along these shores and sea oats
from the dunes. Your grandfather
fished these waters, snagging
mullet from the beach in the
days of abundance.

Your mother strolled these beaches
as a young woman, returning year
after year. And in due time, your
parents were bringing you here.
So as a boy, your love for the sea
grew as if "Mother, Mother Ocean"
were written for you.

It was only natural you continued
the tradition, of bringing your young
bride for her first beach vacation.
The sea breeze and salt water and
moon worked their magic and I
too, fell under this island's spell.

For forty years now, this has been
our getaway, and for a few of those
years we made a home in this place.
Our children with us, year upon year
the only place they ever wanted to
vacation was right here.

Now our children's children
play in the surf and sand,
where each one of them have
crawled before they could stand.
I watch from the beach,
feeling a twinge of sorrow,
as I realize I now walk on
the shores of tomorrow.

Night Fall

We skimmed across the water like
pond skimmers scooting along
the surface. Beaching the canoe
on a rocky bank, we came ashore,
sun fatigued from an afternoon
on the water.

We secured the canoe to a boulder,
spreading a blanket in the grass,
we sat watching the day fade.
From the distant trees the call
of a dove joined the melody of
cricket and frog songs.

Our wake had settled.
The lake was a mirror,
reflecting a fire in the sky.
Molten tangerine spilled
across the skyline as the
sun sank below the horizon.
Night falls on the perfect day.