In the Breaking Place

rudbeckia bud


She raises weary hands high,

knowing that if she aims for

heaven, she just might touch God.


Tendons stretch beyond breaking

point, in the places  where pain

collides with grace; she feels buds


Tear and in the ripping, birth

laughs at the Fall, defies this

gravitational downward


Spiral, dictatorial

dead-weight. Thirsty soul seeks sun

and in the breaking place, blooms.




Tether My Soul


Tether my soul, tie peace to my frame,

Make love my goal, steady my aim

That wherever I am, whatever I do,

Your presence in me would point others to You.


Inspiration from a frosty soccer net…

The Tree


Coldness blunts the sunshine’s rays,

smothers all the warmth in haze,

keeps the Tree from dancing light

and knitting oxygen in flight –

but Tree won’t fret or swallow fear,

for she knows Christmas time is near,

when Peace and Love can melt the snow

and blanket Earth with heaven’s glow.

When Clouds Lose Their Temper

When clouds lose their temper,

they growl and rage;

they hiss and they thunder,

and don’t act their age.

They roil, drawing knitted brows

into dark frowns,

they cover the sun and spit at the ground.

Such rude misbehaviour

just can’t be ignored –

except by the sunflower,

who smiles all the more.


Isn’t she the picture of peace under pressure?  There is something there that I want to emulate in my own heart…