Poem for Your Day
Fishing With Time
If I could capture time,
I’d grab it in my hands;
Fasten it to a fishing line
And cast it far from land,
Till it dropped to the floor
Of the deepest ocean.
Then we could gather on the shore
And pretend we’re fishin’.
Joy
An inner sense of Providence
Not measured in circumstance
But compelled by the Spirit’s presence,
His gift of grace as recompense,
The price, complete obedience
Without willful defiance,
Just belief without sterile evidence.
What is this?
Glory of undeserved favor
From the only faithful counselor,
Jesus, our Lord and Savior.
Down to Earth
My heart climbs the clouds to a sun-opened space.
But my way leads on a different way:
Far from the glory of the proud—
Into storms and humbled places.
Where valleys deepen doubt, require trust.
In the low places
Our eyes fall to others’ feet far from faces
To preordained spaces
Down to earth,
Where God provides on a need-to-know-basis.
The clouds are for the few, high aloft.
Perhaps, they are cursed to have so many choices.
Half Crossed
This morning’s breathtaking shock of cold
Greeted me like a friend from old.
So I layered my skin with downy clothes
And stole into my car, going west
Into the darkened pit of this morning’s night.
The light
Trailed behind
Like Truth denied.
In the rear view mirror I watched the horizon
Begin to glow rosy with light.
Clouds
Crowded
The horizon massed on the tree line
Like a fanned
Hand
Of cards bluffing the sun.
Getting a chill, I turned the car around
To go
Thinking heaven knows
The Fall is close:
The bridge half crossed
From life gained
Later to be lost,
Heaven soon obtained
At the foot of the cross.
Everyday
Somehow a dead leaf got tracked inside.
I didn’t ask from whom or whence it came,
Only wondered, if I did nothing, would it remain.
The more I thought the less I did,
Philosophy’s contribution to underbid.
The leaf, brown and crisp and stale and old
Was passed by everyone and disregarded,
Perhaps preparation for the coming cold,
Summer’s dreams now retarded,
Yesterday’s heat burned away.
Nothing young can remain that way,
Merely born again everyday.
Thanks
In bunk beds stacked in two
The older climbs the stairs,
While the baby snuggles you.
The one on top combs her hair,
While the baby on the bottom bed
Decides she doesn’t want to sleep there.
She wants to sleep on the top instead.
She climbs the stairs to get away,
But we’re determined to get our way.
“Stop. You need to come here,” we say.
“Get to bed. It’s getting late.”
She just laughs that we’re so irate.
We reach and reach till she’s in our grasp.
She kicks and screams and with one last gasp,
Asks of all things for a hug and kiss.
We sigh and can’t help but feel remiss
That she’s asked for this.
We hold her close and press lips.
She finally wriggles her hips
To get free,
And we want three?
I can’t imagine playing zone
Defense against this many
Or watching a third alone.
We sigh now that they’re all in bed.
Finally it’s dark in our home.
It’s one more night to give thanks
And pray the two in our ranks
Will also one day do the same,
And in the meantime keep us both sane.
Orb of Gold
This orb of gold
Shuttling through space
In shadows and darkness
Has a hold
On me.
A call from divinity?
I have grown old
Running apace in place
In shades without spades.
I am neither bold
Nor free
To alight with certainty.
In what will I trust to guide me?
Bending in the Wind
We must bend
In the wind
To win:
Consider reeds
Which always heed
The breeze;
Falling to our knees,
We all must recede
Until we leave.
Lovers
Some say, we’re like two ships passing in the night:
Here one day, another gone from sight.
I say, we’re lovers in and of the light;
Here one moment, another resting in His might.
Listening
With my wife’s final push, our newborn saw the world.
We already knew she was going to be a girl,
But she was still a marvel to behold.
I held her in my arms, turning her over, like a prospector his gold.
In the too bright lights, she blinked and blinked.
We cooed at her, and we laughed as she winked.
She was weighed and sized, tested and touched.
But we were not prepared as such
When she failed her hearing test.
We did our best
To hold it together,
But we wondered whether
She would face ridicule from her peers.
The next day she was tested again and failed.
The audiologist was a kind man who had hearing aids in both his ears.
Perhaps, our fears
Are unfounded I thought.
If he then she can make it.
Still, several days later we took her in
For another testing.
They attached sensors to her ears and the same kind man ran the test.
After a few moments,
He smiled and then said: “She passed.”
Of course, we rejoiced.
But as we left,
I thought
That she would have been OK impaired or not.
Haven’t we all got
Some sort of flaw, a thorn in the side
That we try to hide?
Still, her hearing is a gift I need prize,
Lest I forget the sound of the wind, the birds, and when a baby cries.
But as time has passed, I realize that I often seek what I haven’t got
And chase the sun, never arriving.
In this state of mind, my gifts are diminished,
And don’t I know my life will soon be finished?
If there is one thing I could tell my heart,
It would be this:
Don’t dismiss the things that seem small.
Aren’t I the same in the grand scheme of it all?