To S.B./T.H.

it matters not where you meet St. Gabriel
whether on earth or in heaven    for
writ large on a person’s soul is a deepening
an aging
an inevitable annunciation that your casket of buried
fears and joylessness
is being dug by the gravedigger   an ancient
angelic presence   who keeps you safe
that you may hear the annunciation of your worthiness
to serve Love
that your immaculate conceptions are beloved
of Love
that you are the hands and imagination
of Love
and that the poetry of your life
is a chrism
an anointing     by Love,
                        for Love, and
                        in Love



c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater

As the leaves fall
I lift myself up
To replace its abundant emptiness.

For the world has turned pale
Since the color returned to you
For I have become an empty book
Since I have been read and used
For I have been washed away
When the river of musings
Have dried up from
A storm of old stories of
Nothing new
That's never been told

Still
I'd rather be the white maple
Of short lived pleasant surprises
Of a kind of soul you never knew
Than the anticipated
Colorful few
Among
The vast insignificance
Of an all brilliant view.

I suppose there has to be a reason
or at least a note
to mark that day--

He ate his breakfast
She let him out
He walked along the railing like the plank
defying death for pleasure
of his lady's company
to get his belly rubbed
sprawled long
across her lap

She released him
to chase the squirrels of his dreams
to his black cat adventures
to the aching green of life's
late summer ways

But, the days assemble against your return

May the angels find you quickly
my darling, Bailey
Dark beauty of coal
I was a Tuesday, bereft
You disappeared--
like the shadow of a whisper

Disappeared like hope--
in the last blow of day

From the bleak darkness it emerged,
triumphant and domineering.
Looming over the dreams
its strength,overpowering.

No denials this time
for there can be none.
like a flame it burns
like a spear,it hurts.

It illumines the mind
though the heart splits.
The dreamer dies
the realist lives.

It holds thee in its
strong embrace.
All fade,
only it ...forever remains.

In busily minding the business of others,  you have lost your precious time leaving your own tasks undone.