Sun dance

Sun dances
as young buds it coaxed
burst forth in leaf
drawing strength from their Father
in the midst of
early morning birdsong

and even as the Great Orb dances
some ignore its Light
and fall
spiraling into the rising mist

but those who stay
and bask
grow and play a role beyond
the imaginative capacity
of their mindless bodies

to fly

oh to glide across the air
to feel 
wind uphold wings
pull at feathers

to be near enough to touch
the sky yet
still not comprehend
what it is

to drift and
drop
and drift again
to spin

oh to soar

March

slender white legs protrude from
short dress, dance in the air
freshly shaven
gleaming smooth in sunlight

soft bare feet walk by
tenderly on
rough sidewalk
seeding blisters to grow callouses

Holy Tears

Jesus wept.
we often laugh about this,
the shortest verse in the Bible,
the easiest to memorize.
but do we ever stop 
to think about what it really means?
Jesus wept.
Jesus, a human man, wept.
it takes a lot for a grown man to weep
both great sorrow and great strength
and Jesus, the bodily form of God,
wept at Lazarus' tomb.
our Lord God also cried in the face of His own death--
a sleeping like Lazarus'--
those agonizing hours before His imminent suffering
a choice He made Himself
before entering the womb.
or did He weep
for those who would feel the most
pain in His passing,
or for the great sin of the world
which He was about to shoulder
as a sacrificial Lamb?
this often spoken
often overlooked
passage embodies in a Name and a word
the unfathomable welding of human man
and Lord God
fully both
He took on the sins of every person
that has ever breathed a breath of this earth
and that ever will
showing greater strength and compassion than any man
greater humility than we ever dreamed our God to have
Jesus wept.
to see Jesus cry
watch tension, emotion seep
out with tears
that beautiful release but
then hear the agonizing cries of my Lord God
to know the pain
the gut-binding pain that takes hold and promises
never to let go
that nothing will ever be ok again
and the hope He knows for certain is there
seems but a shadow
of something that once was
my Lord God curled as he was in the womb
at the thought of His descent to the tomb
and all that trails behind
and drags before
the meaninglessness of it all when really
it means everything and
Jesus wept.

we know nothing of pain or sorrow
or Love.

drip

sunrise, sunspots
raindrops leftover
after last night's storm
drip           drip  drip
drip    dripdrip
from the roof
and songbirds bring
spring singing
over the whine of a
distant train 

daily... oops

So I knew I'd missed a few days, but I thought it'd only been 2.  I guess I was a little off.  Math never has been my strong point.

buzzards

three circling

like kites in the wind

drifting

with cloud-moving wind gusts

not watching or hunting

but for the ecstasy

of being a bird

not of this world

and oh, You love me too
though i stumble through life on this earth
like a penguin in the sky
a bird
yet so very different from the rest
and sometimes i forget, believe i belong but
You draw me back to the cleansing Water and say

look at this beautiful place I have reserved for you
don't forget Me,
I haven't forgotten you
so spread your flippers and soar but
leave your heart--your soul--
in My hands
and always return
Home

art

paintbrush winds across the water
pulling surface with broad soft strokes
not waves nor ripples
but morphing marks on the canvas of Creation

spring walk

reflections

bark-skinned creatures reaching upwards

from a rippling eye-blue sky

to tickle the gaseous realm above

raccoon

handprints in the soft slimy mud

water lapping at their toes

a fuzzy nose once sniffed here

--recently--

a tongue lapped 

the reflection of sky and trees

and striped tail trailed behind

sun-dust

sun-dust sprinkling slowly to the sidewalk
as from a giant upended saltshaker,
glittering against a brilliant blue sky

too warm for these icy flakes
and yet here they are
floating down to tickle noses

There you have it, folks.  I've finally updated everything from the past week, so make sure you scroll all the way down and even click "older posts."

homemade

discreet alcoholic breath
of yellow sponge rising in luke-warm water
stirred into sticky substance
pressed, pulled,
pressed, pulled, placed in
cold slimy steel and left
with light damped out and warm moisture in
punched, left again
lifted by gentle hands, formed
fitted into rectangle
enclosed by black box
bottomed with a deformed red-orange "W"--
seeping the sweet scent of sandwiches, toast,
warm buttered bread

highway

highway
like the sweet uncertain breath drawn
between a word and a kiss
the soft reality
of nowhere
flowing from one harsh somewhere
to another but
not quite there nor the other place
and these in-betweens have names
sometimes known, sometimes unseen
the conscious world to some
yet as insignificant as a speck on a map
to souls just breathing through

songbirds

voices rise, waver
fall jigsaw puzzle-style into harmony
and gain strength once more
shrill notes fill in one last place--
the missing piece we never notice
until it's there--
songbirds