Winter Paints December on Lake Erie
From Walks in Life’s Sacred Garden
If you look closely, you will see
the masterpiece Winter painted
along mighty Erie’s shore
in the darkness, well into the early morning light.
You will see winter’s fondness for ever so subtle shades of gray,
How one by one, winter’s breath bends,
sheaths the tall ornamental grass in rounded silvery whiteness,
And how he paints ripply footprints at the water’s edge.
If you look closely, you will see
the fluttering gulls in the distance,
Seemingly small, yet not insignificant,
Every detail a pixel of life.
There’s more, if you look closer.
If you’re willing to brazen the biting wind,
Like the pile of jagged sticks, and mossy green rocks from summer.
Now a single creamy white ice sculpture.
And if you hold your eyes and heart wide open,
You can read the painter’s signature,
Written in the battleship gray sky—
December!
Watching a Farm Awaken in the Early Spring
From Chasing Cosmic Butterflies
I love the way a farm awakens,
especially in the early spring.
How it knows to be itself, just like
the faded red barn knows
there is nothing but the moment—
What we see between sips of morning coffee.
I love the morning songs cardinals sing.
Chips and whistles carried by the wind.
Who isn’t spellbound by how
the darkness slowly gives way to light, and
how the old barn never complains, or begs
for a fresh coat of red paint.
I love the way the morning fog hugs low places
in the still unplowed fields, where soon
fresh ears of corn will grow, and
crows will wait in anxious clusters
Sumptuous meals, Heaven’s delight.
Yes, I love the way a farm awakens
especially in the early spring.
There the soul knows no boundaries.
Its vastness spreads in quiet repose
across a to be defined horizon, painting
a pretty picture, a new day begins.
Feline Tornado at 1:56 AM
From Walks in Life’s Sacred Garden
Nothing rests or finds comfort in the house,
when the three tan-brown and white calicos
run amok in the late night shelter
of a fresh-blown full moon.
Nocturnal by nature,
the full moon rushes through their feline veins
like XXX strength java coffee.
Blame their mania on global warming,
or an electromagnetic overload
from too many electrical devices in the house,
but deep down you know—it's their nature.
Look at their crazed eyes glowing in the dark,
like runway landing lights at the airport.
For God sake don't move...
your shins will be bruised below recognition,
like battered prize-fighters going into the last round.
Like tornadoes,
ripping their way across flat-ass Kansas,
the calico trio's night high must run its course.
God help us all
if the full moon lingers one more night.
Cancer as Spiritual Teacher
From Cancer as Spiritual Teacher
For each of us, life lessons to learn,
Meaningful truths to clearly discern,
Some lessons, mere cooking recipes,
Others, more demanding therapies.
Our spirits cry out when we are in pain,
A new understanding from which we can gain,
And if we are mindful and willing to change,
By opening to spirit, our life will rearrange.
Learning from cancer seems quite odd,
But listen, you’ll hear wisdom from God,
It’s all about balance, aligned living you could say,
Finding our essence, living it each day.
The spiritual lessons so far for me:
From fear and selfishness to be free,
And walk my path with trust and love,
Guided by healing wisdom from Above.
Look at your cancer, beyond a disease,
Its lessons abound for you to seize,
Be honest about what you see,
Spiritual truth is the key.