Once, When Looking Up

yellow aspen

I see You there, covering

me – a cathedral ceiling

of finespun gold, aspen-boughs

crowning my way with glory.


I hear You in the whisper,

silent assignations passed

from one trembling yellow throat

to another, gentle sighs.


I feel Your gaze rocking me sweet,

and I breathe, slow and deep, pause

mid-stride to rest in dappled

acceptance, cherished by shade.


You are here. You, Your essence,

Your presence – it sings, sunshine

in shadow, gold filigree

on an altar made of wood.


Splintered, I crack open. Your

notes rustle in my veins, seep

past knots, and I’m rooted here,

utterly, completely me.

Summer Senses



When green grows bold and paints the land

with emeralds in verdant hand,

and mourning doves in cloaks of grey

lure shadows down from Milky Way,

you see it’s summer.

When peonies let loose their scent

in waves of summer sentiment,

and lilacs dab behind their ears

with French perfume to rival peers,

you smell it’s summer.

When watermelon drips in creeks

down saturated, pink-stained cheeks

and rhubarb tartly wraps itself

in pies and cobblers on each shelf,

you taste it’s summer.

When breezes tickle sun-tanned skin

and Sunshine hugs each friend as kin,

the grass grows silky carpet-down

and sand meets shore where toes are found,

you feel it’s summer.

When wrennish scolding shames the cat

from lurking where the nest is at,

and children’s cries of pure delight

rival fireworks at night,

you hear it’s summer.


Collecting Data


Senses collect the data,

process and sort,

 conclude that Christmas is coming.

But senses can be sidetracked,


led down a snowy garden path.

Heart and mind collect Promises,

data for the spirit,

process and sort,

conclude that Spring

is but a breath away.


For a devotional on this topic, visit Growing With God in my Garden

A Lesser God


Unless the details of this life,

those structures of the things I see,

are faded by Your Glory-light,

take back-seat to Your Majesty,

my eyes will always think they’re true

and fool my senses, charm my mind;

thus taught, my vision makes of You

a lesser god of lowly kind.

Have You Seen Cold?

sundial sparkle

Have you seen Cold?

Henna-blued in shade Cold,

Stiff and frigid suede Cold,

Sparkled, gem-inlaid Cold,

Have you seen Cold?


Have you heard Cold?

Crisply crunching whack Cold,

Ice upheaval crack Cold,

Blizzard-blowing smack Cold,

Have you heard Cold?


Have you felt Cold?

Puts your soul to sleep Cold,

Biting, makes-you-weep Cold,

Hurts-to-breathe-in-deep Cold,

Have you felt Cold?


Loosely based on Joanne Oppenheim’s delightful children’s book ‘Have You Seen  Birds?’  For those of you who have never experienced temperatures in the -40s, you can’t possibly imagine Cold.  Here is your crash-course introduction…

Uncommon Sense

Keen-eyed surveyor of foliar domain,

Ears opened wide to hear summer’s refrain,

Breathing in scent after mid-morning rain –

Your uncommon sense is no act.

Allowing the breezes to gently caress,

Sensation’s vibrations cause you to confess

This feeling’s delicious on fuzzy-tongued crest –

Your uncommon sense is a fact!