Heaven-Bound in Grannie's Yard
For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities- his eternal power and divine nature- have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.
Romans 1:20
Beneath the swing hard dusty ground,
But on this wood plank I’m heaven-bound.
Two cords of rope I hold on tight,
Then back and forth with all my might.
Fluttering hem and trailing hair,
Kick off my sandals in the air.
Then by chance lean back and see
A sprawling oak leaf canopy,
Ten thousand leaves waving to me.
Who choreographed this scene
Of steady blue and swaying green?
One Creator over all
Delights to show, display, enthrall.
The heart sings out; the soul takes flight.
Shine down on me, celestial light.
And suddenly, to break the spell,
The clang! of Grannie’s dinner bell.
Slowly I descend once more.
Grannie’s at the kitchen door.
My dusty feet, Grannie’s chagrin.
“Child, wash your hands and wipe your chin.”
Once again the clouds roll in,
Clutter, busyness, and din.
But in Grannie’s yard there stood that day
A towering arbor vitae.
And I will never be the same.
The Book of Life safeguards my name.
Conga Prayer
This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. John 15:12
Every sister
Every brother
Wake up, rise up.
Clap hands together.
Feel the rhythm
Hear the beat.
His drum is calling
“Arriba Philly, on your feet!"
See him busk on Filbert Street.
Shake his hand
When first you meet.
The hands that play
For you by day.
The hands that clasp
At night to pray.
Tum-bao, tum-bao fills the air
Come listen to his daytime prayer.
His motto
Remains the same.
Exalt the Lord
And bless His name.
Smile back at him
And if you can
Leave a tip for
The Cunga Man.
Home to the Branches
You will be secure, because there is hope;
you will look about you and take your rest in safety.
Job 11:18
I’ll go home to the branches
Where I can fold my wings
To rest and re-acquaint myself
With old familiar things.
Boughs reach out to welcome me
Arms open wide and spread
Amidst the gaiety of leaves
Dressed in their autumn red.
The tree that first gave shelter
Afforded lift and height.
To reveal the vast open sky
For my initial flight.
Yearning for what stays in place
With no intent to roam.
When currents are too rough for me
The tether leads me home.
Wild Geese in Flight
Finally, brothers and sisters, … whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy- think about such things. Philippians 4:8
They fly the pattern every year
With V-formation flair
Following invisible notes
On sheet music made of air.
The lead bird their conductor
Keeps the ensemble tight
Flapping resolute downbeats
In their path of flight.
Pushing the tempo forward
Each bird maintains its space
All the down-ups synchronized
En route to a higher place.
They watch and quickly readjust
With an unobstructed view
The conductor’s signals
And never miss a cue.
The open sky their venue
Performing at twilight
For an audience of stars
The music of their flight.
Wearing the Snow
Finally, brothers and sisters,...whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy- think about such things. Philippians 4:8
No need to fret the loss of leaves
Your prized mantle, your rustling sleeves.
Receive as clouds on you bestow
The splendor of light falling snow.
With graceful boughs and regal height
Stunningly you wear the white
Over your silhouette not seen
When you were covered up in green.
I see you outlined as you are
Glistening beneath the moon and star.
You reveled in your autumn best
But winter is the time for rest.
Enchantment on a wintry night
A first time unexpected sight.
Moment of awe and in my mind
Stillness and wonderment entwined.
