End of Day

See the mist hide the mountains
and the trees scratch the sky
and the sun paint the clouds
as it slips down to waken another hemisphere.

Soon it will be night.
There are few evenings left for me
to watch this sunset
and see the houses around me fade to grey masses with
rectangles of light.
Even in the dark they are familiar
with familiar faces inside,
which I find comforting.

Soon all the houses around me will be strangers,
And the room I am in
will no longer be my son's.
Perhaps another little boy will sleep in it.
And I will have new houses to meet and get used to.

The sun has gone now--
Soon it will be too dark to see my notebook.
The day is ending, as all things must,
including my sojourn here
With its sweetly familiar mountains.

Gentle Moments

Gentle moments, one by one,
Tiptoe softly 'round my days--

A tender hug that makes
her young and heavy eyelids close at last;

A boy cuddling his elephant with blue and thoughtful eyes,
content on the floor;

A daring leap from a large rock,
then laughter as he rises to jump again;

An earnest tug at my hand as she insists, "c'mon,"
eager to show me an ant,
which she then observes closely, flat on her tummy,
her brow furrowed with silence and wonder--

These punctuate the time, like soft, gentle breezes
woven between the daily duties and frustrations and unsureties.

They are easy to miss and forget,
but that will not happen today.
Today, I will feel the breeze and sigh at its loveliness.
I'll let it cool my worries, and wipe the dust of care away.

And I'll keep the memory safe in a heart that is full and grateful,
ready for recalling when the breeze is replaced
with violent storms or hopeless doldrums.

Then my children, whose innocence and goodness
I try my best to nurture, shape, and protect,
Will return to protect and nurture me
With memories of our soft, gentle moments.

Seasons

In winter it wished, and shook--
Skeletal arms outstretched--
Longing for springtime clothing
And summer loads
And autumn fruit
To come again.

In springtime it blossomed, and rejoiced--
Regal, snowy splendor--
Scenting the breeze
And brightening our eyes
With the smell and sight
Of promise.

In summer it bowed, and sighed--
Patient, stoic submission--
Nourishing its fruit
And sacrificing its beauty
Despite the heaviness and aches
In its branches.

In autumn it released its load, and exulted--
Straightening itself again--
The work completed
The fruit ripened and harvested
Relief and rest
At last.

In winter it wished again.

The 23rd Psalm and Me

I wander, alone, aimless

Life has led me astray

And I cannot see

Through the thick forest of choices

That surround me.

 

                   The Lord is my shepherd...

 

A desire burns within me

It lies far out of reach

I have no boat or bridge

To cross this impossible river-chasm

That lies between me and my wants.

 

                   ...I shall not want.

 

I am world-weary tonight

There seems to be no respite--

All around, for miles and miles,

I can see only rocks and thorns

And I am so tired.

 

                  He maketh me to lie down in green pastures...

 

I have lost myself

In a sea of strife and confusion

I feel I shall drift on and on

Like an aimless piece of kelp

Far out of anyone's caring reach.

 

                 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

 

I face the dark, and tremble,

Afraid of the unseen course

That I must take through this

Dark and uninviting valley

Alone and unguided.

 

                 ...I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

 

The darkness and the confusion seem so real

So stark and imposing

Demanding despair

But the 23rd Psalm tells me

Of an ally unfailing

Making goodness and mercy walk in my footsteps

And guiding me to an eternal home.

 

I am not lost

I am not wanting

I am not unguided or forgotten

With the Lord as my Shepherd.

 

                   ...My cup runneth over.



Watching You Fall Asleep

I kept the door open just a crack

And a sliver of light fell on you and me,

Sitting in the rocking chair.

Usually I close the door, so I cannot see,

But tonight, as your goodnight lullabies played,

I watched you fall asleep.

 

You held your fox so very tight

And played with its tail at first

Then you rubbed and rubbed

And rubbed your eyes,

And pressed your cheek against my breast

And kicked your feet a little, dangling them over my legs.

We changed positions then

And you snuggled deep in the crook of my arm.

Without a fight you closed your eyes

And gently fell asleep.

 

In this small place, in this small time

I sensed this was your haven.

What could be more right than this—

This utter safety you found in my arms?

Surely I had no better place to be,

No better person to be

Than a mother rocking her peaceful toddler,

Watching her fall asleep.

water well

carry your bucket
to the water well
lower it in
hear it fill
now pull it up
feel the weight
feel the cool
as it sloshes a little
down the sides
and onto your hands

carry your bucket
home again
hear the water move inside
feel the handle
feel it cut into your palms
a heavy, awkward weight
pulling on your shoulders
and back

all that work
for a drink of water
for a bath
for washing dishes
done every day
in days long past
if my water came from a well
instead of a tap
I would not take it for granted

carry your soul
to a thinking well
lower it in
hear it fill with thoughts
now pull it up
feel the weight
feel the substance
as the thoughts slip
down your mind
and onto your heart

carry your soul
home again
feel the new thoughts move inside
feel it bump against the old ones
a ponderous, sobering weight
pulling on your mind
and heart

we cannot live
without answering our body's need
for water
we must get it
every day
whether the journey to quench our thirst
is long or short
hard or easy
it must be done

we cannot live
without answering our soul's need
for growth
through new thoughts
the journey to fill our spirits
is always long
always hard
but it must be done

finding water
is much simpler nowadays
a walk across a room
is all it takes
yet our souls are often wanting
taken for granted
we surround ourselves
with all things familiar
and forget to make the journey
to find replenishment
resulting in thirst
and drought
and trapped unhappiness