“Take Today”

April 24-2011 (Easter Day)

Take today

But remember it is not yours to

Use fleetingly

Each breath is an essay

Of what your eyes perceives

And you speak willfully

Take this day

But knead wisely the minute

Unto a memory

Today’s sunrise

Timely ends in slow sighs

Un-creasing at dawn entreaty

Pick each grape

From the present vine

And savor it’s fullness

Do not live,

Lean or cling toward past’s

Attic of echo and dustiness

Hold this day

Close but not very close

That you’re blind to it’s shadow

The dark bears

Moon, stars and nightingale

To overlook can be denial

Honor today

It’s an elijah not to return

On anyone’s sundial

Passover

No sweet or bitter hour

Its paradox yields

Today’s script

May be prophecy unwritten

Yet what miracles can wield!

PLEASE feel free to comment. Thank you for time. Deborah

PLEASE feel free to comment. Thank you for time. Deborah

“Love’s Customer”

They say LOVE cannot be bought
Neither wrapped or tied up with gold ribbons
In a box—
That it is free,
Deliberate and liberally
Begot,
Like a mountain tune whistling through
Dark wide caves
And rivers that run and
Meet the looming ocean waves.

Still, our love was paid for,
Bought with another soul’s blood.
It was wrapped in crimson’s regality
Then tied and nailed on a cross…
It was never free.
The price—
Beyond money’s worth
Or human validity…

Beginning with a virgin’s pure cry
Then, A Father’s gift--
Heaven swaddled within
A hay-filled manger;
And alas, under Bethlehem’s starlit view
Christmas’ Greatest little Customer.

“Burl Ives at Christmas”

I like Burl Ives—his gregarious lilt wiles me away to
Mountainous men with their creeds,
Boorishness and laughter.
The “Holly and the Ivy” couldn’t sound more fresh
To my senses than when he burst out, free
As a deer in acres of clover!
I play him every Christmas season like a ritual, a
Veracity of goodwill, ageless glee
And winsome chatter
That encompasses the memorandums of
Tomorrows possibilities.

“Thanksgiving Eve”

My evening has been whittled down to a soft,
Easy listening, a meditative sauntering.
The Ave Maria on my stereo of a thousand functions
Playing comfort to my last few November nights.

Emma lies at my feet stretching her importance
Like Greta Garbo and I,
Reclining on bliss.

Should I be taken at this moment I’d lift no regret
To the angels, no resentment on my shoulders and
No murmuring of “why me” for heaven to disdain.

Gratitude-- my only yoke
My sole hike.

“Afternoon Worship”

Days like these where the sky can’t make up
Its mind, should it sprinkle or shower, blow a few
Clouds or open its gateways with gold are
Little quagmires for my thoughts…
Mud seems to be intoxicating to a child.
Simplicity is the encomiums of its living.
But the sky’s aluminum and changing lines
Beckons me to complexities that clot.

I tip and sip, pulling at webs and threads
Before my thinking eye, wondering if the fog
Will dissipate or thicken should I forego or
Continue in my search for Godliness.
Shocking silence after a battle can leave
Behind a mist of strange sounds we can almost
Trace with our soul and carefully feel with our ear
For its rare form of holy heaviness.

Worshipping at times can rifle me to grounds
I have never softened beneath my knee, it can
Eliminate, illuminate and chafe at the misdemeanors
Of my mortality with one remembrance.
This day of sorts granges me to no mile or
Border but to ride, to plow up my heart and
Let the winds clear the debris of anxiousness
While I lift up my eyes and summon from a distance.

“Clinging to Air”

This is an infertile night; words aren’t comforting.
Music resonates like cymbals over my head.
The creaking screen door meddles cold inside and
Writing
Is
Like
A
Seizure
At
Bay.

Oh if I could just amble, do some aligning,
Be a little marginal with living like a consonant
You can’t hear but is still there in sight,
And
Pray
This
Misplaced
Creature
Away.