We pray to align our minds to the mind of God
We read the Word to renew our minds;
The Word changes us,
Never the reverse.

Change the Infinite?
We cannot.

Manipulate the Almighty?
Impossible.

Make the straight our crooked path?
Inconceivable.

Creation cannot become Creator;
Though it bear His Image,
It is merely mirror,
Never Light.

Servants are we,
Never Master.

This the Way.

Memories linger and arise…
Misty ghosts before our eyes.

Autumnal Wanderings

Summer's heat leaves us wilted,
Potted tomatoes drying on the deck.
Water helps, and evening's shade
Reminds us of the coming dread.

Ash trees drop late summer's shed;
Yellow leaves litter grass now lost;
Dog days oppress us as we yawn,
Ennui of heat turns our desire to frost.

We are not content at summers' turning fall;
We miss the verdant greens of spring;
We dread the snow, the wintry cold;
No longer young, we fight our growing old.

The semester has begun,
Textbooks, scuffless, new,
Slung lightly in my students' packs
As they begin their freshman track.

Thirty-seven new beginnings on,
I am an old horse about to plow,
Semester settling on my shoulders,
Horse collar creaking to the strain
As earth yields and rolls to the side.
Fall plowing the back 40 has begun.

Mom,

The lilacs are blooming now.
I remember how you loved them,
How the Avon lady sold you lilac spray
To make your lavender bedroom come alive,
The sweet scent of May in January.

I breathe these lilacs in, and you appear, Verna May.
Springtime is alive again with you.

2023

"Papa, we want to fish!"

We gather the digging tools,
The plastic pail,
The poles and the wagon.
My old fishing pack rides in the back.

First stop, garden, to unearth
Peaceful worms
For a hook and a bath.
Our fingers are black with soil.

The walk to the pond is hot.
The bank and the shade help.
Bullheads are our only customers,
Making worms' sacrifice a shame.

The girls soon tire and run to play,
While the boy and I try on.
"Here," I say, "I'll teach you to cast."
He looks at me, shading his eyes with his hand.

His little thumb barely reaches the release,
But his determination and natural skill
Produce perfect casts within minutes.
The line arcs high and falls, arcs high and falls.

I am no longer necessary for casting,
And soon he'll figure how to run the hook
Inside the worms' wriggling to hide the barbs.
Today is a most important day for both of us.

Some day, when I am gone away,
I hope he'll repeat this ancient ritual,
Digging in dirt, uncovering worms,
Teaching his grandchildren to fish.

I imagine a breath of celestial air;
I say I'll face the ground,
Afraid to see the Almighty.
But how?

If Jehovah is above and below,
Within and without,
Beside, behind, and before,
Everywhere at once...and more,
I'll have nothing in store:
No attitude, no posture,
No stumbling alibis...
No critical questions arise,
No time left to philosophize...

He sees me throughout;
He sees through my eyes;
He's in my thoughts;
He knows my truths...and lies.

I will attempt quietness
Though my mind rushes on;
He is here in tumult & solitude
Present in the garden and in the multitude.