into danger I walk again
just getting up
awaking from a world of dreams
I must try to
make reality

stagger out from under covers covering
sanity-into insanity again
this world's  become and looking
back since I was
young and naive,
always was

some say God is in the trees
but the cedar in front of my house
is always full of cackling old blackbirds

i hear the whisperings
of my Creator
somewhere
deep in the middle of me

maybe i am the church

maybe every pain is a memory
every tear a redemption

The Peace of Wild Things By Wendell Berry


When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

North Carolina poet, Jim Wayne Miller, on his goal in writing poetry. "Growing up in North Carolina, I was often amused, along with other natives, at tourists who fished the trout streams. The pools, so perfectly clear, had a deceptive depth. Fishermen unacquainted with them were forever stepping into what they thought was knee-deep water and going in up to their waists or even their armpits, sometimes being floated right off their feet. I try to make poems like those pools, so simple and clear their depth is deceiving. I want the writing to be so transparent that the reader forgets he is reading and is aware only that he is having an experience. He is suddenly plunged deeper than he expected and comes up shivering."

Mutual...
Like the beach,
sparkling with radiance.
Openly welcoming the soothing
caress of the waves.
Allowing them to
playfully tug
at her toes
before retreating back
into the ocean tide.

Mutual...
Like the leaf,
that shines amber
in the autumn sun.
Silently inviting the wind
to sweep it off the threats
of the brittle twig.
Trusting the breeze to set it aloft,
in a whimsical spiral
before releasing it gently
into the safety of the ground below.

Mutual...**
Like you and I.
As we confidently
match each other's
gait in a display
of song and dance.
Though our exchange
remains unworded,
the promise of love
rings clear within
the clasp of your
willing hands
in mine.