Poetry

Time Out

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One weekend
I decided,
being of the giving kind,
to take my friend Time out,
might he need a break to unwind?
To my view he’d been working too hard,
passing everything in sight,
until night blurred into day and daytime into night.

I asked him, might he speak with his boss,
to request an extended leave?
He replied this was unlikely,
as his boss, Greenwich
was a hard taskmaster and mean.

Nonetheless, upon the issue I prevailed,
until my friend agreed
to take a two-week-sail.
For that 14 day period,
he did not once count,
though he was the only one who knew
since no functioning clocks could sound.

From that day back
and forward
Time has taken occasional rest
because even a man like time
needs to take himself out
to be his best.

I’d like to be…

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i’d like to be
as strong as a tree
that grows stronger
with the wind
turning over new leaves
while learning to breath
tasting news of where the wind’s been.
my roots would wind
down
toward the earth’s middle
halting before they burned
with so deep a grasp I’d survive
though swiftly the planet might turn
then after thousands of years
and lightning and wars and men’s tears
with one limb left green
teachers would take little ones to me
to wonder
and marvel
and dream

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What I Say

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Don’t just say you see
what I do
what I say what I say
don’t just do
what you can prove
say what I say what I say
all the day all the day
what I say what I say
stop

jump in jump in spin
jump in jump in spin
do a quick revolution
jump out

ever since the day
we got married
been a holy ride
love done never ended
holy ride holy ride
on

jump in spin jump in spin
jump in spin jump in spin
do a quick revolution
jump out

Lori sweet Lori
train gets a goin’ cross country
dreams of rails and coattails
we got goin’ with a mist of steam
dreams of rails and coattails
ain’t never lost what it mean

jump in spin jump in spin
jump in spin jump in spin
do a quick revolution
back on

dance to the Lord’s revival
dance to our sweet Lord’s tune
dance to Jesus’ music
sweet sounds in your room

jump in spin jump in spin
jump in spin for it do you in
Lord lead a quiet revolution
with your strong constitution
say when

Well Met

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rise
child of God
as the sun rises
meet your Maker with meditation

quiet your mind
child as you meet Him
that the first steps
into your day
are blessed

sacred moments
bereft of discord
burnished bright
with praises
to birth
a joyous dawn

Yes, you May.

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Even though the first day of May isn’t for a few hours yet, it’s May somewhere. Here’s a poem in honor of the month.

Some folks celebrate May Day, there’s Cinco de Mayo, and don’t forget Mother’s day, but I think we should celebrate the whole month in honor of what its name signifies: permission.

Take a stroll on a sunny, windy day?
You May.
Stay up late before you hit the hay?
You May.
Pluck petulant pansy petals so more will have their way?
You May.
Get deep into Spring cleaning to get ready for Summer days?
You May.
May’s the month with a built in okay for every good thing.
It’s the correct word for misapplied cans. It’s a great time
for early sunning at the beach, be you any age woman or man.
It’s a month for pushing Winter out the door,
and putting Spring flowers to bed.
You might have your own favorite month, it’s true,
but my fave
is that month after April
and right before June
called May.

Immeasurable

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We have not the device to measure your
grace
Nor does your love for us make
sense
The unmerited devotion which flows from
You
fills our cup till we can hold no
more
If earth is the trial ground let us seek to
return
in whatever way we are
able
learning each day to give back to you
Lord
what you’ve served so well at your
table

Moment Harvest

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Think of a day
as a moment harvest,
gathered nuggets of time
nourishing moments you pick from the field
of your day.
Gather them in a big cloth sack,
then spread them out when the sun goes down
put them on a scale
to see what they weigh.

Waking up next to your wife.
Quiet time with God.
A hot cup of coffee.
The sun coming up.
Time spent with men you respect.
Reading a good book.
A drive to work (bonus *with your daughter*)
A call from a friend thanking you for advice.
Playing with your dog.
Admiring your garden.
Dinner with your family.
Time to think and write.
Time to rest, recuperate,
and dream.

If I continue looking at all my days
as moments harvested
just like that,
I imagine the only thing
I’ll ever need
is a bigger and stronger
cloth sack.

Comfort

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Blessed by the God and Father
of our Lord Jesus Christ, the
Father of mercies and God of all
comfort,
who comforts us in all our
affliction so that we will be able to
comfort those who are in any affliction
with the comfort with
which we ourselves are comforted
by God.
2 Corinthians 1:3-4

Heavenly Father,
Comfort those in mourning,
whose loved ones’ hearts beat on
in memories joy and pain filled
during lonely nights and dawns.

Comfort minds lost and broken,
those who cannot rest. Bring
them caregivers gentle, angels
heaven sent.

Comfort broken limbs and burned
skin, arms and legs no longer there,
that still send messages of pain,
phantoms in the air.

Comfort First Responders, who see
more than they should, who go when
others stay, who do more than others
could.

Comfort enforcers of law,
the ones who wear the vest,
who put our safety first
while making their arrests.

Comfort the military,
our red line around
the world, the ones who
often run into harms way
with our flag unfurled.

Comfort the healers,
who administer best aid
for our ills small or
grievous, their dedication
never wains.

Comfort for the Pastors,
who count everyone their
flock, whose hearts might
stretch out of their chests
while they point the way
to the walk.

Lord, if we can’t give comfort,
at least let us not add pain.
Let us, like all the other helpers,
be there for those in need
when sorrow rains.