Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
Sir spider suspended,
still
but for the invisible
jarring of his aerial
abode.
Does it frighten him
to be held by
strength he cannot see,
to scuttle across the
sky, limb to leaf
knowing the opposite
anchored
end could detach in a blink?
Still he spins in space,
hovers across my path
while I dodge and duck
and pray, Dear God to have
faith of a spider.
They shimmer and sway in the breeze branchy partners against a Danube blue sky. Glassy diamonds on the green– arrow fragments, light glimmering in an anthem song. The play a tune for my eyes, loudly announcing the beauty of dusk, a message in light music reflecting in emerald on the velvet evening. The leaves bend…
“In the beginning” begs the existence of a dot, the endpoint of a line referencing time and movement, like an ant on the Golden Gate Bridge. If there is time (now) and movement (how?) why do we shun this guess the size of a galaxy, turn from the possibility of a God placing us just…
Overcome by the quaking power of God’s sweet presence Around the shoulders of friend-draped worshippers Across the room to the children raising, praising, lifting small hands Surrounded by incarnations of God in these multi-colored people Next to sweet-voiced sisters and deep-throated men, I’m looking~~eyes up and over and through the windows, past the summer-waving trees…
I’m awake behind closed eyes noting the whooshing sounds of far away freeway noise (at 2 in the morning? seriously?) and a howling, train-whistly cry rises in the distance through my open night window. The coyotes are stirring, too. The Psalmist David writes of being awake through the watches of the night and I wonder…
Jesus, because He said I could (ask) about a Five Year Plan– like a plannable annuity with a guaranteed return on my investment. as if… as if a sure answer for my tomorrows would bring me peace today. He whispers instead what’s doable– the Five Hour Plan-a chunk of time allotted to say, oh, baking…
Golden oil in a bottle liquid light refracting sun in shimmers a mirrored shape reflects on the surface and I wonder at the drop, drop, drops of light as they drip, drip, drip down. All this tasting joyfulness because something was crushed and pressed, leaving light.