The spider taken by the wasp,
The pointless web remained
Betrayal for the butterfly

There is a silence these spring nights
No human god can fill
I’ve listened faithfully at dark
To hear their lonesome trill
But now I know it’s past the time
For return of the Whip-poor-will

An endless ramble
Through an empty ancient wood
With your soulmate dog
On a cool morning
The universe complete

The Sourwoods sway akimbo
Beneath the windswept Pines
Oh, but to be a scampering squirrel
Joining their dance divine!

Why do we write?
Why read, why share?

Poems are stories
Stories of our terrors and triumphs
Our love and loneliness

Candles calling to each other
Allowing us to huddle in the dark

When a man comes to you
And tells you your own story
Then you will know that your sins are forgiven

Ernest Kuntz and Katherine Ketcham
The Spirituality of Imperfection
1992

The thirsty plant
Need not know
Who pours the water.

Prayers of
thankfulness
Need no deity.

The shadows creep
Out of the deep
Crawling up the shore

Golden sun
Will soon begone
Light will last no more

Frigid breeze
Slides through the trees
Stealing warmth from earth

Dark has come
Into my home
Freezing heart and hearth

Age spotted hands
Type of these lands
That none shall ever read

Yet birds still call
And sparrows fall
Like hairs upon my head