I believed love is immortal, irrational,
and sometimes, tired.

I liked the idea of an impossible god.
In all of love has there ever been such a lover as you?
Out of desire for you,

Sometimes heaven is when I’m away from you, god.
Sometimes heaven is only the two of us. I know you
understand.

Transferring the investment unkind, from mountain to cry.
The plan believes itself to be special,
having been assured of its specialness since birth.
The feeling that takes soundings
and scrapes, aims,
and knock-down blows us.
Reduced to an equality.

The loose tangles of habit and taste.
Thinking of ourselves as more than distance corrects the attachment.

In the time it took me to retrieve my cards,
the connection imperative became a stylised refusal.

I tear my way through getting to know you
The unnatural ease of disentanglement.
Unhappily having, to spend time.

In a room,
I am reading,
glancing out of the window,
or I am looking at what I am writing.
Then I stop.
Discouraged, distracted, I am exhausted,
lie down, sit up, touch my toes,
swing my arms, make a phone call,
ignore a call, hear a voice, see a message,
answer it, don’t, there is plenty of time,
too much time.
Only time.

In a room,
I am restive, restless, and bore myself.
I look at my books,
shelves overwhelmed,
actually I watch them,
I am their guardian.
Books live for me to read,
books are alive when they are read,
but mostly I fail them,
and they rebuke me.
I look for distractions.
I look at my cat,
my cat is not worried,
and I am I.

Eating a grapes,
Just the slightest bit ****,
That I plucked from my garden this afternoon.

I plucked it from the jaws of the so-far
Unidentified critter who dines in the garden.

It is more likely a squirrel,
and one with truly dreadful
garden manners at that.

I don’t mind sharing a few of my berries,
but this one takes little nibbles from so many,
never finishing one.

It’s a little like having Goldilocks
hopping around from plant to plant,
looking for the one that is just right.

The garden is flourishing,
with the tomato, cucumber, pepper and tomatillo
plants promising to produce soon
the carrots are begging to be thinned.

So while we all wait for our flowers to bloom,
for our plants to produce,
and for our neighborly critters
to stop eating all the berries.

The forest muffled the sounds
within and beyond
it as if the trees
themselves swallowed noise—all
but the tune of the unseen piper.
He followed the sound of the keening pipe.
The boy ran faster,
fast enough that it felt like he flew,
anxious to get to the world the song spoke of.
Its unfamiliar melody,
absurdly cheerful,
jarred him from the carnage.
It filtered through the pores of his skin
and infused him with the strength and warmth
he needed to run through the icy clutches of winter.
He even began to catch glimpses
of the piper through the trees.
Though he scampered and danced
as he played his pipe,
he appeared sometimes before,
sometimes behind,
and sometimes beside the boy.
He wore a black hooded cloak
that hid his face.
Beneath it his clothes were pied,
a patchwork of vibrant color
impossible to miss
whenever the wind whipped back the cloak.
His pipe and fingers were white,
of bone.
And just like the boy,
he left no footprints in the snow.

A young woman with golden hair
sat down across from him.
She wore paint-streaked
old overalls and her hair was pinned up
in a messy cascade of gold.
Her eyes were piercing blue,
her smile filled her face,
and she grinned at him with an easy,
friendly way.
Her beauty shines from the inside out,
It flows like a journey down a long route.
she shines beautifully
like the sun rising over the horizon,
Her eyes sparkle like a bright star in the sky.
She has the stamina,
beauty, and courage that one would admire,
Even the love and happiness one inspires.
I desperately wanted to have her love,
but she didn’t know I was there.
I realized that my chances
were much like a snowball has in hell,
Then suddenly all of my daydreams ceased –
I was awakened by the bell.

It started innocently enough, or so I thought.
Doing the things, and addiction of preying.
Trying to be the honest that God has ever seen.
Proudly pious all the time and in every way.
Strutting my spiritual stuff every day.

Searching for ways to show my addiction;
Doing everything I could to earn God’s promotion.
Working hard to reach the next spiritual level–
By reading, prayer, praise, and Holy revel.
Thinking I could get more, God, of Your attention,
By being the addict that You could ever mention.

Living the honest life on my terms.
Got my fire insurance; I’m not gonna burn.
Addiction of “God, I want to be ‘souled’ out to you”!
Broken, spilled out, desiring to stick like glue;
Serving without ceasing,To be the honest that
You have ever seen and always on the ball.

Then, in a moment of passionate, fervent prayer;
When I felt I hadn’t done enough, and it seemed You didn’t care;
All my efforts to please You looked worthless and of no avail.
And my worst fears were realized; I had failed.
I cried out mournfully, “Oh God, I give up; do what you must
To make me the best ever; for it is in You that I put my trust”!

May the Christmas morning
make us happy to be thy children,
and Christmas evening bring us to our beds
with grateful thoughts,
forgiving and forgiven,
for Jesus' sake.
Close the door of hate
and open the door of love all over the world.
Let kindness come with every gift
and good desires with every greeting.
Deliver us from evil by the blessing
which Christ brings,
and teach us to be merry with clear hearts.
Help us remember the birth of Jesus,
that we may share in the song of the angels,
the gladness of the shepherds,
and worship of the wise men.