Category Archives: poetry

tonight: horizon

“Bravery is leaning into love.”
-Emily Wierenga (her exquisite blog, here)

This image, from summer? Sigh. Love.

wide horizon,
and sitting, chilled so pulling a sweater tighter
broad expanse,
and dreaming, filled so opening arms up wider
deep wonder
and believing, still so soaring ever higher
grateful dancing
and God, here, so I’m alive-r
grateful dancing
and God, here, so I’m alive-r


tonight: this morning, still

i’m still tuned to an instrument of greater and unknown design
Still, Great Lake Swimmers (Buy this album. You’re welcome.)

day breaks and color pops that grand canvas sky
the trickle-down effect of rising sun: squinty eyes
only just awake to the chill of winter beckoning color to bare face
the upside affect of windy air: fast feet
the recognition bright and crisp as day, new:

tonight: these dead things, they live

“…An artist is a nourisher and a creator who knows that during the act of creation there is collaboration. We do not create alone.”
-p44 Walking on Water, Madeleine L’Engle

Palms up we hold these stories past rather lightly
and when they fell to the ground the crush seemed insurmountable
sure death. sure ache. surely never ending.
The kernels fell hard and the cracked earth swallowed them
eager and hungry while the wholeness of the gone-ness consumed
ever, ever, ever tears raining down and softening these harsh lines.
And then with an air of anti-climatic but real resolve
a sprout becomes a root becomes a bud becomes
something wholly other. something longed for. something good,
if different, and yes, maybe better.
These stories held rather lightly in the aftermath
with one look back over shoulder
reveals a different story, a better one indeed.
The ever-repeating metaphor: from death, life because
all these dark hues always laid bare by the light,
a role never, never reversed, from this we cannot hide
and so we stand with open hands but utterly sure-footed,

tonight: the sudden of a spring storm

“The best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain.”
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

it’s like that in Texas in the spring time
some times
a dive in temperature
and a spike in wind
so having left the house without so much as
a sweater
never mind the now needed wellies
crossed arms attempt to create warmth
and come up short
every time
so all that’s left to do
is let the sudden of the storm
wet your face
while you choose to laugh
as your shoes splash and soak
and the mess that you are
(clingy wet clothes and stringy mop of hair)
is the mess you were as a child
unprepared for the way the day
yielded to the unexpected
but making much of it nonetheless