Sometimes it splashes you in the face
brazen and breathtaking
as ice cold water
But how many more moments
slip by unnoticed
(for she rarely raises her voice) . . .
My heart’s wound is an old old story /
It chatters in the background day and night . . .
Quit trying to corral the river
to slow it down
or to touch every drop
or to steer it away
from the danger of the waterfall . . .
I am from cotton hand-me-downs, hemmed to fit, / From Carnation powdered milk / And big biscuit Nabisco Shredded Wheat. / From racing and yelling, “I’LL GET IT!” / Whenever the black rotary phone rang…
Born on the fourth day
of God’s great goodness
Your Creator crowned you
to govern the night . . .
In Praise of the Sun
Rays of sunlight beaming down like a gentle fan
set translucent spring leaves ablaze
midges become fairy lights, swirling sparks . . .
You made this earth in Your image, O God
Ground under our feet, solid and still
In the sacred garden, we rose up out of the soil,
dust children,
and we spend our lives never leaving it . . .
You, God of Life
are the God of Water
Without you we shrivel and die
You built into our design
the craving for you . . .
We who sleep are awakened by your holy blaze
Glory and love infuse the earth with sweetness . . .
Feather on the Breath of God
tiny feather, downy white
tucked under the wing
of mother dove
close to her breast
near to her heart
warm and safe
hidden, obscured . . .