Gifts of love in Winter

My son with long dark hair plays
arpeggios on our piano
and glides across the living room
in a tee shirt and jeans.

This old man scrawls
with cold hands as the April snows
freeze solid and the window frame sways
in the gusty winds.

He takes hot showers to remove
the chill from his joints.

Dawn, and just me and a lonely cardinal
Play out our songs for God to hear
In the spare air the bird twitters
I, in my chair stretch my wits
We each sit, the bird on a branch
And I, leaning in the Lazy Boy
The day lies before us like an unwritten score
or a scroll unaccustomed to ink
We will fly across this unknown expanse
and cherish our freedom to fly where we will
The white clouds and clear blue skies
will be the ears for our stories
And nightfall will draw our tales to an end.

Anxious

Getting ready for a trip,
our traveling papers
take on importance.
Like Schindler’s list,
if we drop one
we could end up lost
or stranded
in some out of the way airport
far from the crowd,
or wandering about
looking for ticket counters somewhere
to get our reservations confirmed.
I call to make sure we are on track
with the planes and cars
homes and roads and timetables,
but the recording says:
our arrangement for a sedan is invalid.
So I wait on the phone for hours.
Finally,
I think maybe my sister can get us out of this jam.
One well-placed call
and she had us on the way.
So nice for an old man,
to still have a big sister.

A walk
Most necessary after a night of ongoing munching,
seeking the foods, or the images which will comfort,
all done while, walking the rocky, thorny, trail of loose faith,
and an earthen life overgrown with the unattended weeds.

One Psalm


You know,
I was never planning on living this long.
I have followed this trail high up in the mountain
and now the way seems to have vanished
for lack of travelers.

How could you abandon me after stringing me along this path?
I thought you were the one who had it all under control,
but now I’m flying like a plane without a rudder.

Return O Lord,
I am nothing and nowhere without you.
Grasp my hand again and guide me as in days of old.
Fruitless are my manly exercises in bringing about your good.

Bring me again to the clothesline
where those brilliant white sheets
waffle about in the breezes,
and your pure, cool, and cleansing breath
blows through my heart like a golden flute!

Stillness

All the trees stand *****
without a quiver in even
the smallest of their branches.
Yet, for what these silent elms
make up in quiet,
a rollicking robin
cannot suppress his excitement,
about the dawn of this new spring day
and the arrival of the morning sun!
With quavering voice,
he rolls out his rhythms.

Reading Psalms

God totally surrounds
The whole of heart
And sweet sister soul.
All are embraced in the song:
Our joys, hopes, anger, vengeance,
Our strike against the goad
Of the load of messy life.
Earthquakes, wars, and salt tears,
God is placing them all here.
The ground base of all.

It shifts.
And our perceptions
Move with it.
Mountains crumble and the Temple shakes.
There’s no escape
From God’s love.
It is trust itself,
Like the palm fronds waving
While the spruce branch shadows
Dance on the wall of this room.
God is present here
In his Word.