Sitting By The Pond

Then He arose and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased and there was a great calm. Mark 4:39 NKJV

I always loved the poetry of Robert Frost, and as a fellow New Englander, deeply appreciate his use of the small details of its seasons. “Birches, The Mending Wall,” and “The Road Not Taken,” all reflect the scenes from my own childhood. Perhaps, “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening,” is the best of all these. For Frost, that moment on a windy hillside gave him pause to think and inspiration to write of things beyond the snow and chill of the evening. But for me, having worked outdoors for forty winters, I am quite content to settle on a bench by our pond in Florida, to think and pray!

“Lord, I’m just tired” I said as the breeze pushed up tiny ripples on our pond. “You are in control.”

Though no answer came, contentment washed over me as I released the pain and exhaustion from my recent surgery to Him. “God, if this is as far as my road is to be, I’m okay with that Lord.”

As I sat, an Ibis, quietly swooped over the surface of the water and a squirrel raced across the branch of a slowly dying sycamore near my bench. Then His voice came, “You’re not finished yet. There are still miles to go.” Then it was silent again. Perhaps unlike us, God feels no urge to elongate His conversations. Just as after Jesus spoke, “Peace be still.” Perhaps He simply listened to the quiet lapping of waves as the disciples rowed. And in my own heart a peace settled in. I could hear only the rush of wings skimming over the waters of my heart and a still small voice saying, “Just a little further child.”

Forever Alive

As the watchman waits for sun’s first rays
And a bridegroom turns when the music plays
Hope stands outside our door

As before the flower a bud first swells
And the Robin comes as the snow still melts
Spring breathes and longs for more

At the sunset hour when the grave was sealed
In that silent night when no church bells pealed
Who knew what lay in store?

In grief Mary trudged to the tomb that day
Before the dawn turned black to gray
To that terrible place
Where her Lord had died
Till He came
Called her name
Now forever alive!



Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.
Proverbs 13:12 NIV


Forever Alive
By Peter Caligiuri
Copyright © 2026

The Owner’s Promise



My store stands nearly empty
There is little on the shelf
Just an ounce or two of patience
Though there’s several pounds of self

The old ceiling paint is peeling
There are scratches on the floor
But hope still welcomes people
Just outside the open door

Though some say I should give up
Yet a hope within me burns
For I trust the owner’s promise
That tomorrow He returns


Blessed are those servants whom the master finds awake when he comes. Truly, I say to you, he will dress himself for service and have them recline at table, and he will come and serve them. Luke 12:37 ESV

The Owner’s Promise
By Peter Caligiuri
Copyright © 2026
All rights reserved

"That time of year thou mayest in me behold
When yellow leaves, or few or none do hang"
William Shakespeare - Sonnet 73