Natural World

The natural world, it is the sun
That breaks over the horizon
And calls out to all things that breathe
To awaken, to rise, to live
So we open our eyes and accept
The gift of light to spur ourselves
Through the air, along a path of green
Where flowers guide our good and perfect steps
And butterflies like honey, and ants
That carry worlds on their shoulders
Make sounds indistinguishable from touch
Yet we take our vision through each day
Until the sky is dappled with stars
And the cold air of winter chills our lungs
So we can wait and watch for spring
When the natural world awakens once again.

Fitful Muse

My words are pale like ghostly visions on the page
Mere simple expressions that cannot raise a fist
To fight for a right and a reason to their place
And all meaning drains from them like a grape’s life blood
But the piquant juice is nowhere to be found
And the color of remorse at not bearing fruit
Resides in my stomach, twisting and churning
In a darkness not unlike the cloudy night sky
Where moon nor stars cut through the binding.
Were it not for fabled spirits blessing my sight
At the hours when estranged sleep begs rest
The pages of my journal would remain blank
And my bed tossed about by a tempest.

Infinity

Back to back the moments call
From whence we came upon the fall
Of angels desperately singing and clinging
To the hierarchy above the wall.
And so our vision of perfect protection
Stands up and salutes at attention
From here to there through the eye of the eye
So that all of earth experiences retention.
We are saved, we are enlightened,
We are blessed, we are not frightened.
Our gifts we accept as our aeons are renewed.
This day our harmony is granted—there is no end.

Polar Bears

Cold that warrants sweaters and blankets
As the breath can be seen indoors
The gas bill is too high for comfort’s sake
And what they say about ecology hits home
So we endure in the interest of polar bears
Who cling to tiny ice floes in the arctic
And we pray that its enough for them
That the species will go on forever.

Elemental Beings

Elemental beings may beyond our ken reside
Though little things they be to keep little things inside
And typically our grass is green our flowers lovely grow
With form and colors of the rainbow sweet, you know.
Supposing then you’d like to have a chat with some of them
And set you out a bowl of cream or a fine wine in a glass stem
Then quietly wait in candlelight for them to join and sit
In a simple ring around you as many as will fit.
You ask them how they pass their days, “working,” they reply,
“To make the world more beautiful,” says the butterfly.
Though creatures wee and quiet, they’ve such a lot to do
And must get back unto it—haven’t long to talk to you.
They carry raindrops, pass the pollen, glitter in the sun,
And though their buzz is all about work, they’re surely having fun.
Mother Nature’s tiny folk, they turn and churn and chew
How lucky you are if they take the time to come and sit by you.

Minstrel

In words of rhyme and fancy
Strumming from strings of six
The minstrel tells his story
Love, life and fellowship.
Around the fire or at the table
Good friends, good food, good wine,
There’s never an end to the cheer
But there’s always room for one more chair.
And when the merriment is over
A good night’s sleep and a meal
Off he goes to the next village
The next heart, the next soul
To entertain, sing a song, tell a story
Bringing news to those who toil
Bringing laughter to those who fret
Bringing friendship and joy to the lonely.
He shall pass this way again, he says,
We’ll wait ‘til the day comes for sure.
Our hearts are lighter for having known him.
A miracle: his life, our love, God’s peace.

Fleeting

What comes in fleeting moments
In the whispers of the night
Are the messages from rumors sent
By creatures’ flurried flight.
We listen to the stilted rhyme
To give it tender sense and style
But never underestimate the time
For angels watch us for awhile
To see if we indifferent are
To the wretched plight of lost and poor
Aeons mark the day, the hour
Within our dreams of blessed lore
And we shall cast our grace unto the star
Hoping to retrieve what has been gone so far.

Train

The train cruises at 80
While the conductors report their positions
And the passengers busy
Themselves with reading and music
And private conversation
And sooner or later the young will become restless
And the students will power up their computers intermittently with text messages from their peers
whom they will see in just a few hours
And I observe them and send out protective meditations
so that safety will reign—
Friend, acquaintance, strangers alike.