Prayer for America

Flag of the U.S.A.When my country’s flag is flying
and I’m standing at attention,
far below its waving glory–
blue and white and red,  it’s waving
like it waved when Francis Scott Key
penned the Star Spangled Banner
–proud I am to be reciting
pledges to defend my country.
When and if the call comes for me,
will I sacrifice my freedom
for the freedom of all people?
Will I give my life for others?

Marines, airmen, sailors soldiers
in cold graves beneath white crosses,
traded lives for country, gave me
freedom now to live and worship.
How I love them how I thank them
for the blessings I now cherish,
given me because they died for
U.S.A., Beloved Country.
Help me live, teach me to fight for
duty, honor that they fought for.
Keep Old Glory up there waving,
high above my treasured Heartland,
U.S.A., Beloved Country.

© Freeda Baker Nichols

Eagle at Banner Mt.


I’m reblogging this entry. It’s one of the favorite pieces I’ve written.

Freeda Baker Nichols



It is a hot summer day, and a bright Michigan sun is bearing down upon our green car with its New Hampshire license plates. We are nearing Detroit––my husband and I and our son and two daughters. Our three-year-old is crying because she is weary of riding.

      “Hush, Baby, we’ll soon be home,” I say soothingly.

      “We don’t have a home,” she replies.

      We do have a home; it is the boundary of love around our family.  Home is the inside of a car as we travel across the United States, with orders for a new assignment.  It is the inside of a jet airplane, winging its way across the Atlantic.  It is a one-room motel where we wait for a house.  How can I tell my child this, when words like hobbyhorse, Mama’s rocker, crib and walls-painted-blue are what she remembers about…

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Along About Sunset

dsc_0529-001                                                                     summertime

                                                                      along about sunset

horse starts to barn

 © 2016 Freeda Baker Nichols

Today, I wrote a poem . . .

Nothing great, just something fun–this poem I wrote today. It takes a while for new creations to “jell” and so I’m not quite ready to share this new one.  I also photographed a bird today.  A dove.  A pair of doves fly into my yard each evening and feed before the redbirds get here. The doves are quiet, peaceful and polite. They are watchful, too. It’s a challenge to take a good photo of them.  But still I try, sometimes waiting a long time before they strike a pose that causes me to shoot–the camera.


Do you like the doves? This one looks like a good subject for a poem, or a story. Do you think so, too? If you wrote a verse about this dove, what emotion would your words convey? Sadness, happiness, loneliness, or something else?  Please leave a note in a comment below. Thanks.   –Freeda Baker Nichols