Wednesday, November 29, 2017

I See the Lightning

I still see the lightning flash

Even though my eyes are closed.

Illumination comes to me even when

I do not wish to see it.

I still can write in shaky cursive,

Though I have only printed

Since I was a boy back in seventh grade

And my poor teacher begged me to write legibly.

I still can ride a bicycle

Even though I'm old

And my center of gravity

Has shifted considerably.

I still get the urge to take off running

Even though my knees can't take it anymore

Just for the sheer joy of the thing,

To fly like wind across an open field.

I still carry in me all that I have learned

Though most of it I learned when I was young,

It was part of growing up back then,

And to my surprise, a part of simply breathing now.

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

We live up among the trees; second floor garage.

She and I have always been drawn to places

High up and for us sometimes a little lonely,

Blue sky above; below the broad green spaces.

Fine places to bump along, warm companions,

Holding on to one another on dark and rainy nights

And building fires on cold and blustery days.

In December, stringing up the Christmas lights.

Leaves blow across the drive as we walk down

To get the mail and disturb our doe and her fawns

Nibbling at the blackberries growing on either side

Bordering the backyard verges and fresh-trimmed lawns.

Our path is marked by God; hedged about by His creation,

Nudging us along the way that He would have us go,

Winding up in quiet places by lakes and streams, in woods

And here where the breathy firs and ardent brambles grow.

We’re country folk, even when we live in towns and cities

Vegetation seems to sprout around us of its own accord,

Softening even asphalt, road signs, wires and concrete -

Fluffing up a nest around us a gentle gift by a kindly Lord.

We don’t mind the confines of a nest so much.

These days it feels the right and proper thing for the days,

That come upon us quiet-like almost unnoticed,