Henge of Miracles

stones of wonder standing there

temples tall and imposing

messages with depth so ancient

what do they say?  how do they say it?

circles of granite, quartz, marble,

the test of time we encounter deeply

so old they have outlasted our memory

we have forgotten their benign purpose

what  bears their signature anymore

what if they were the tablets

that bore instructions from God

surely we have broken our promise

or have we marveled so long

at the question of what it all means

and forgotten the simple answer

to go on living our lives to the fullest

Soundwaves

swaying with the waves of sounds
coming from the wind chimes as they tinkle
in the gentle autumn breeze
leaves caught in the air float and circle
in a tiny whirlwind slowly dropping
in a landing on the dew-covered lawn
squirrels scamper to find birdseed
birds chatter and call for their mates
bees hover over the yellow mums
gathering up the nectar for their hibernation
soon it will be the time for snow
and all the earth will slumber
the music will depend upon the wind
as it winds its way through the trees

In The End

shoes tossed casually in a corner

the soles worn, torn, from a heart forlorn

walking in steps so slow and short

because of a life drowning in responsibility

to teach the word of God to a wordless throng

telling them how sinful, how needy they are

for the protection granted by their lord and saviour

to help them persevere in their weak moments

to be all they are meant to be in God’s eyes

heroes, no, evangelists, yes, to spread the good news

and uplift hearts that have burned

from the world spinning so fast they lost their breath

so now, the soul is tired, worn, sworn,

to go home with the lord in the end

Could

you never knew how much you loved her

she could breathe the sunshine brighter

her laugh was the essence of lilacs

she swam like a swan in the pools of your eyes

she could dance in the rain of summer’s bliss

imagine, if you will, that she still holds you

draws you closer, puts her head on your shoulder

imagine she is singing, softly, in harmony

where do you think she resides now?

in the clouds?  in the soil? in the wind?

does she think of how you lay side by side?

so close, yet so far because you denied

the truth of the passion that rose beneath you

always the actor, never the true teller

of history as it could have been