The Dance of Today

today we believe we walk our path

intentioned steps, one follows another

we look before us, long enough to see

that the path changes before our very eyes

and so we come to a new understanding

the direction changes like a compass in the wind

what is the next step, how long, indeed,

never can we know, never can we see

what truth brings us to where we want to be

the long way home twists and turns

our hearts are timid and stomachs churn

lively tunes create the calmer mood

like a ship moving forward on a tumultuous sea

we ask God to grant our safety

may we know the betterment of our lives, thus,

perhaps our wishes will be soon enough met

here in the inevitable dance of today

At Best

cards fall one way and stack another

the words held under the breath stall

and what we want to say is nothing

like what we do say, but who knows

what the absolute truth boils down to

so we hold our hand a little tighter

and we imagine the deck shuffled lighter

it all makes sense in the end

as the pot grows and the nose tells

exactly where the aces lie

but no one draws the royal straight

and no one passes up the full house

so each hand we play teaches us

to be honest and forthcoming at best

Wakefulness

lavender walls make it inviting

to walk into a new world

their scent cleanses the old path

leaving the darkness behind

and shattering the walls of the void

time to engage new hope

for the downtrodden and sad

lifting spirits like a rainbow

into the platinum sky

a great beam of light that carries

the expectations of a new day

smiles, laughter, herbal joy,

all the growth and promise

of wakefulness and blessings

Steps

steps...

slow...measured...Morse Code infused...

like tap shoes on the dance floor

clickety-click, slide, clackety-clack

overcome by the scent of lily of the valley

that wafts through the air

just around the corner from where he stops

yet the scent is strong enough

to bring back memories of his grandmother

a pint-sized bottle of vigor and vinegar

who made sure his clothes were always pressed

for school, and later, for college

before she took one last breath

and became a memory in a tin-type photo

that leaned against his diploma on his dresser

and now life is one tap-dance after another

yet the message never changes