Morning Delivers

morning chirp

Morning delivers her first-born sun,

wrapped in swaddling cloud;

shepherd-hills covered with fleeces spun

of sugar before manger are bowed.

Birds upon wings of angel-dew

sing glories to all who will hear;

those who are wise will do well to pursue

as blessings of Christmas appear.

Let Glory Rise

frost structure

Let glory rise on wings of dawn,

let hope stand tall when strength is gone,

let love prevail and laugh at death,

let beauty bloom on frozen breath.

Time Will Tell

Time will tell –

tally of suns and moons

draws age spots on cheeks,

fades spring blush,

traces wrinkles in the parchment;

and yet,

in your death throes,

you carpet the earth

in sunshine.

Time has told tales –

days and nights of wonder,

tear-stains over grass-stains

in endless cycles of wash and wear madness;

secrets,

loves gained and lost,

progeny wiped and polished and applauded,

aches echoing pains in a comedy of errors.

What your final glory will be,

only

Time will tell.

Glory

The years have robbed them –

of youth, strength, seedlings, soil.

Yet still they stand,

tottering together,

hand in hand,

heart in heart,

staring down the approaching winter

with eyes bleary but wise.

Theirs has been

a journey,

a defiance,

a rising above,

a conquering of Kingdoms.

And on the brink of leaving this for the next,

they raise shaking heads

to be crowned at last

with glory.

Put Me Back Together

Image courtesy of El Bueno, El Feo y El Malo

Created in Your image,

yet torn am I.

Fragile fragments, whisper-thin shadings

delineate my frame,

a dress-maker’s form

bereft of substance and style.

You alone know the hidden places

where the bits of me lie;

put me back together,

render Your fingerprint

in high relief on each segmented scrap.

When Your signature

sews me shut,

stops the gaps,

the Masterpiece of me

will glow with Your glory.

Put me back together,

make mine a heart undivided and whole,

that I might parade Your Power

from bill-board heights.

Chased By Rainbows

My rear-view mirror

spells it out –

I’m chased by rainbows,

tailed by dreams.

The sun over my shoulder uses

what storm clouds brewed

and funnels formed

to redeem my back-trail;

car tires churn

and toss a spray

that, when hit by brilliance,

pursues my past

with glory personified.

*

The rain was just breaking up this morning when I glanced in my rearview mirror.  I was, in truth, being chased by rainbows.  What a lovely thought, that my past can be redeemed and made into something beautiful!

Mimic

Your beauty, so exquisitely formed,

Is borrowed from a heavenly place;

Your colors, by a sunset warmed,

Are copies of unearthly space;

Your tender charm, your fragile bloom,

Reflect the glory found above;

For, woven on Creator’s loom,

You mimic Him, whose soul bleeds Love.