How the wind is moaning,
And how the trees are groaning.
The cold wind, it is roaming
To find its place of rest.
How my heart is yearning,
And to the light is turning.
Every day, I’m learning
To find my peace at last.
The wheels of time are turning;
So many people hurting.
The millstones, they are grinding
Until the end of time.
The flowers, they are flourishing,
The Word of God is nourishing.
With many people perishing,
God’s mercy we must show.
I know You have a plan
A purpose great for me
But what the plan and purpose are
Is hard for me to see
It’s hidden from my eyesight
Too quiet for my ears
Or maybe I could see and hear
If not absorbed by fear
You’re making a creation
You have an awesome plan
The gears are turning slowly
O’er many years they span
The universe You fashioned
The earth, the stars, the sea –
Am I just a speck of dust, or —
Made for infinity?
It’s raining redwood seeds
and flocks of geese
dance noisily over my head.
Cool night air, alive with life,
comes through my window;
it smells so fertile.
No snow as yet,
and better yet,
the rain may come.
The promise of rain
is teasing us.
If rain will come,
the earth will bloom again —
and so my heart.
[On the passing of my friend Martha]
Goodbye, my friend,
Until we meet again.
When sorrow runs its painful course,
There will be joy again.
Goodbye, my friend,
Who bravely bore your pain,
Who wandered earth in brokenness
And still could wear a grin.
Goodbye, my friend,
Sometimes I hardly knew
What went on, inside your mind
Or what you had been through.
Goodbye, my friend —
We didn’t see eye to eye
On many things, but still it seems
In gardens we could smile.
Goodbye, my friend;
We’ll meet again someday.
Your body healed, our friendship sealed,
And love will ever stay.
Wandering through this globe;
Don’t really have a home.
But — still, I do;
I know it’s true —
That heaven’s my real home.
Can’t settle anywhere;
No place without a care.
I must let go;
Yes, I must know
That God is everywhere.
Can’t seem to find my place.
I need a lot more grace.
A vagabond
Must be so strong
And keep on running the race.
[9/9/2015]
[Written during a trip to Europe, during the 2015 refugee crisis]
As I ride down the metro escalator,
Hundreds of faces look up,
Going the other direction.
Each face has a story —
Joys and sorrows
Unknown to me.
What is going on
Behind each face?
As I read the newspaper
Thousands of refugees
Are crossing borders.
Each face has a story —
Joys and sorrows
Unknown to me.
What is going on
Behind each face?
May every face
Find peace
In their own heart.
May every face
Be willing
To give peace to others.
[9/6/2015]
[A composite of my experiences and others’]
People bustling —
Sounds of a crowd.
Little babies
Crying out loud.
All of humanity
Compressed in one space.
A microcosm
Of our human race.
Flights delayed —
Sleep on the floor.
Jet lag had me
Run into a door.
As a matter of fact,
The food turned out great.
People were friendly
Even though late.
Air conditioning —
Incredible blessing.
Otherwise,
There’d be more stressing.
Many languages,
People of the globe.
Many faces,
And languages told.
And over it all
The Lord of the earth
Is watching each one,
And gives each one worth.
[8/21/2015]
Blackberries bursting
On briarly bushes.
The sun beams so bright,
Her eyelids it pushes.
The bees they are buzzing,
The butterflies bright,
The flowers are splashing —
A glorious sight.
Picturesque painting,
The colors of nature.
She laughs and she dances;
The glory-day makes her.
A song she is singing,
Her soul it takes flight.
When sunshine is happy,
She laughs in delight.
I didn’t sign up
For this lousy trip.
First Class was promised –
“Third Class” says my ticket.
Sunny skies predicted;
It’s started to storm.
Lots of companions?
Not at all; I’m forlorn.
Friendly co-travelers?
Instead I get abuse.
A smooth, easy road?
I say, “What’s the use?”
But on the horizon
I now see a sign —
The blue skies are coming,
The happier times.
The road — It’s what you make it;
The load — It can be shared.
The weather? You can take it.
Rain or sun? — Just be prepared.
Companions or foes –
Could it be my choice?
Just listen as you travel
And hear a still, small voice.
