Here Comes the Sun

The mercy of sun after a night of cold greets both the meek and the bold. One turns slowly toward as though risking a wound, the other with palms open awaits a boon. The first fears knowledge of things best left unsaid, the second couldn’t leave a new book unread. The one fears what new light might reveal, the other with steely nerve breaks the seal. The former with a sigh gives in to his fate, the latter with a burst of courage pulls open heaven’s gate.

Your Year Write Here

So you’ve stumbled out of bed and made your coffee and rubbed the little crunchies out of the corners of your eyes. You sit down in front of the computer or notebook and there it is… 2013. All of it. A blank slate. Waiting to be filled in. Do you:

grab a pen
grab some paper
is that enough?
no, more paper
it’s a whole year
that’s a long time
does this poem have to rhyme?

okay, more coffee
the cup’s already low
I’ve only started
this is going too slow
okay, focus

well, there’s your bucket
you know, the list
what’s still there?
what have you missed?
do you climb that mountain?
do you sail that sea?
if you’re still in school
will you settle for a B?
no, an A this time!

then there’s your work
is it your life?
besides paying for stuff
is it mainly strife?
what is in you
that God has planted there
the gift that is you
you’re intended to share?
it could be spectacular!

the lights are blinking on and off
planning uses up watts!
i need more coffee
more coffee, Jacques!
right… i don’t have a butler
got it

okay, what about service?
is it all about you?
God can use your hands and feet
and your noggin too
He can use your muscles
even if they’re small
He can use your height
even if you’re not tall
for someone else
now that’s exciting!

now we’re cooking with gas
now we’re inspired
now we’ve figured out
how we are wired
’13 won’t be easy
sure, ’12 wasn’t either
but you can get started
after a breather
and maybe one, more, cup.

it takes a whole village
to make a village run
it takes hard work
to have the best fun
it takes many hands
to fashion a church
to open a bakery
what rhymes with church?

well, you’ve got your orders
Mr. Mrs.or Ms.
you’ve got your plans
you’ve got your list
you can always develop
and stretch and adjust
all planners surely
know this much
you can do it
that i know
with God, all things are possible
on with the show!

Trowel and Error

I’ll come clean and admit I’m not nearly the gardener either of my parents were.They managed to put together a yard that Better Homes and Gardens would be proud of. My dad built all sorts of garden structures and learned how to grow bonsais. My mom could tell you what everything was and what kind of fertilizer it liked. I suspect orchids liked her as much as she liked them.

Me? Mostly I like to play in the dirt and try to make the yard look nice. I am fascinated though, by what springs from the earth after I plant it. I am beside myself with pleasure when, despite my lack of knowledge regarding growing technique and Latin or even common names for plants, something blooms and thrives. I’ll drag my wife and daughter outside and show them what has dared pop out of the earth in my flower bed. I’ll exclaim, “Look at that, isn’t it pretty?” They’ll ask me what it is and I’ll say, “I have no idea!” Truth be told, I sometimes suspect that when I achieve success in the garden it means one of two things: either absolutely anyone with the ability to dig in the dirt can grow it, or I’ve chosen a plant which would more appropriately be sold as a “Pretty Pest” and will take over my neighbors yard after first making mine its mother ship.

I’ve read books on garden design and climate and micro-climate and soil type and yada yada yada. Due either to stubbornness, laziness, or a diabolical combination of both, I’ve settled on a strategy that sort of works (for me). My strategy is it either lives or it dies, but even if it thrives, I may dig it up and replace it anyway. I’ll probably stick with that, but I still wish I could remember what the bush with the funny looking pink flowers is called.

Poetry Waltz

The following should be read with the rhythm of a Viennese waltz

You start with two words
Like love and you
And add a third word
It could be too
Perhaps add a thought
The concept of love has baffled scholars, engineers, and rodeo clowns for centuries.
It won’t have to rhyme.
See line above
Insert a grand flourish
Our love is bigger than the Grand Canyon, more exciting than a Lady Gaga costume change, longer lasting than the mustard stain on my sweatpants incurred during the unfortunate 49er’s loss last Sunday.
A secondary flourish
A lot of people think you should change your oil every 3,000 miles, but I’ve read that every 5,000 is just fine. The thing is, you have to be consistent.
It runs so smooth
And conclude
I will
Be yours
I’m yours