barbed-wire-on-a-stormy-day-1117143-mHow good of you Lord, to wrap another day
In pre-storm quiet and low-hung gray.
Sweet, tingly scent of fresh-cut grass
Hangs lazy, expectant in the air.
Silence pierced as with tiny holes,
By bird-song here and there.

The air is due for washing,
Pollen latent, clings to walls and walks where,
In minutes or hours, pure rain
Will leave them clean and bare.

How Good is God–Creator God!
To mold the world for me!
And add the redbud highlights as far as I can see.
Intoxicating beauty, I try to hold my breath,
And wish, as Joshua, “Sun stand still”,
Let worship resound in me!

In kind deference, God gifted me this world
While cold and undeserving my fists still clenched and curled.
But in this gift so undeserved,
He radiates Himself,
In quiet, sweetness, and cleansing rain.

Right here I’ve come to know Him,
Right here to understand,
The vastness of His love for me,
The perfection of His plan.

My soul awakes, revives to sing,
My fists loosen and relax.
For here within His goodness
Drunken by His beauty,
Mesmerized by love…

I give with abandon all I have
So frail compared to this.
But in all He has, He only wants–what I alone can give:
My trust, my faith, surrender,
My life to largest hands,
The ones who sculpted all this world,
This intoxicating land.

On a Monday

imagesDamp clouds hug the earth.

Early rains,

Press their cheek to mud and clay.

And lift to leave the stain of

Sun kisses,


Hail Spring!

Cherry Blossoms

Hail Spring!

Stubborn, purple headed weeds,

Hail Spring!

Banish the winter!

Postpone the heat!

Driven by springs insatiable beat,

I begin to itch from inside-out.


This fever a contagious malady

Soothed only by spring’s

Cool, soft, damp melody.

Morning clouds hug me close,

Press your dewy brow to mine.

Sun, plant your lips delicate, fine,

To my cheeks.

Between Heaven and Stone

Abba, there’s a rush of Heaven-water out my window.

Sounds of earth and stones gulping, swallowing and gasping,

For more of Heaven’s gift.

Cool and pelting, still soft and warm

Against skin and mud and leaves.


Autumn burnt and crispy till,

Heaven wishes them soggy and limp.

The boldest ones still hang on branches

drip, drip, drip.

Almost xylophone, the pavement pings

a different tone

Than petal, blade or stone.

Night refuses to rest her head,

Keeps one lid drooping over dawn.

Prayer from Psalm 16


I have no good apart from you.

No good. Not one sweet breath,

Or escape from death.

No fresh spring rain

Or lilting refrain.


Master, I have no good apart from you.

Not one sunny day

Or lover’s nosegay.

No long night’s rest

Or pleasant jest.

No good. No good, No good apart from you.


My shell cracks and beauty fades

My wealth a generous waste.

Moments of peace, glimpses of beauty

Reveal as they melt – were barely a taste. 


But as I feel you fill my lungs,

Only faith and hope sustain me,

That I will see you with my own eyes.

Then this mirage I will despise.

I have no good apart from you.

Pelting Life

See a flower, pelted by rain, scarred by hail. See

A bloom whipped by slicing winds, scalded by unquenched mid-day sun.

Yet it yawns wide, breathes and stretches, unfurls. Delicate, indestructible arms

Reflecting glory.

Then time and age, waste and days, then longer days and rain no longer

Revives. The scoff of storms yields no more growth. A season dies and she sleeps.

Peace beneath muddy crust till a new season of trial and storm,

Growth again, of new glory,

new color, deeper roots.


Brazen blue on a blustery day.

Banish the sun, so the raindrops play. 

Dash the dreary daisy, 

In the late months of the year.

Wash the weepy window with a long and weary tear. 

Tantalizing tint, of soft and sweet azure,

Blue the blooming baby’s breath,

In a raindrop world washed pure.

10 Cubed Disaster

Drowning in liquid air so fraught with spits,

Heaven hurls heaving storms, while ships with wheels skate

Through sideways rivers lost from banks that are bone,

Thirsty in other lands sand whips like driven

Rain. Long past sufficient water for needs.

Green stretches more verdant still with each gush

Of heaven’s profuse shower never stops.

Windows weep here, glass cracks there with searing 

Heat refuses cool, refreshing rest for

Land which heaves with excess of rain or sun.