Along an old highway road
there in a field
among scores of wild flowers
sits a lonely, little house
it looks abandoned
and not much to look at
it’s the worse for wear
there’s been no one there
to give it attention
and some proper care
to many the house goes unnoticed
but, I was drawn to its solitude
I pictured myself on it's front porch
watching a sunrise
or rocking in a chair at night
gazing upon the moon and stars
provided especially for me
in my little house

Those without arms
cannot hug you
and without warm hearts
cannot love you
Perhaps you can’t give
what you did not receive
and there is only God
to forgive you

The azure blue
of an infinite sky
is dotted with soft white pillows
The cool, clear water
of meandering streams
runs amidst the oaks and willows
These fields of dreams
that sway in the wind
are painted with a tint of gold
They wave at me
as I go by
for me alone to behold
God is at work
God is at work
Don’t wake me up
It’s God at work

Might our sharp tongues
be duller today
and words not tossed
to fall where they may
Might we be mindful
of the mouth's ugly ways
when goodwill is missing
from the things that we say

One can spend a lifetime
scaling down expectations
to fit in the same space
with one’s limitations

A bad day
Is when I feel that
to save myself from turning to stone
is to avert my eyes
from the world’s head of snakes
A good day is when I don’t watch the news

It is easier
to be ourselves
acting as someone else

That which is
clearly smothering us
is strangely
what we can’t live without