Wood

Can't you see that half a dozen ways
Of droplets catch upon the silent face
Of waters like a million pieces of
The song of sparrows and the flight of doves?
Spiders crawl up broken trunks
Rivers, half and half drunk
With rainbows from the springtime storms
And autumns, winters, summers yet to come.
Meadows, glens, and valleys lose you yet
Does still remain in pools wet
With froth appearing on their rising throats
And foam a thousand crystals on their coats.
This is the one true way to imagine trees
The single, only place of butterflies and bees
Yet, so often don't you forget this road
And wander off, to those you never should?

Mustang Time

Silent night
Quite the combination of a dozen stars
And a dozen yards of
Unraveled gold lights
Mustangs graze under spangled skies
Letting the moon dance off cobalt eyes
Hooves, manes, tails swishing like melodies
Of the grass coming through symphonies
Of tonight...

Let Go

Let go for a million memories
Of the crashing tide in the stretching sea
Of the way the eye of a hawk can glare
Or the soft, warm neigh of a mother mare.
Let go of your hopes, and your million dreams
For these forever, un-severed, sweet memories
For the cry of the kite on the desert sands
Or the endless swipe of an empty land.
Let go, or forget all that held you dear
From this glassy reflection of the calm and queer
Of the place you know of, yet don't yet know...
Listen,
Remember,
Then let go.

Star

The stars are like a thousand suns
That shine in shattered night
Hands clasped beside the shimmering moon
Within the silver light
Half part of God, half angel's wings
That stretch from sky to sky
And dash a dozen amber gleams
Like copper-coated dye.
What man could still forget the Lord
If he had seen the stars?
Deep evidence of heaven's dance
Across the fair afar.

Ecclesiastes 12

Before the day drips closed or all
The bowls crack red with rust,
Before the dying sparrow eats
His final crumbled crust;
Before the grass grows brown with time
Or wheels put to rest
The sun will rise a final time
Within the striking west.
Before the body breaks and bleeds
Or wrinkles add with time,
Before the silver cord is snapped
And ships are hard with grime
Before the willow sighs its last
Or eagles fold their wings
The sun will start the breaking day
And sprinkle out its beams.
The world is fading now, the stars
Have passed beyond their gleam:
The vase has shattered all its clay
The glade's no longer green
But though each man returns to dust
And windows seem so dim
The Son is coming in the West
For us to worship Him.

Though They Fade

Every day the stars disappear,
The sun wanes in the dying west,
Each day the moon sinks with the year
And fades upon its silver chest---
I think of you, the God who holds
The falling day, the burning night
The God who in his grace still folds
The gentle dove within its flight
Against his heart, against his soul
And shields it from the lancing rain
The blistering heat, the crumbling cold...
Lord, by this, by your crimson stain.

Rain Drop, Drip

Raindrops drip down,
Cacophony of filtered light
Lightning flashing all around
Cracking apart the splintered night
Raindrops, so many rain
Drops like the inside shell
Of a split and earthy seed of grain
Smelling like the rolling fell
A dozen miles around,
Raindrops against the blades
Of grass that finger from the ground
And rainbows splashed across the glades...
Filling, falling, stretching
Every lake in open flooding
Sod and tendrils catching
Raindrops in their shedding.

Evidence

The universe declares your name
The stars cry out your wondrous fame
And every hawk, and hare, and crane
Sing out the works you've made.
The rivers splash your rending tune
The groves speak splendor in the moon
The sun that drips from human runes
Shields mortals from the shade---
For so are we---though nature lives---
Though planets' light forever gives;
We, mortals, proclaiming you before
This evidence of heaven's door.

God's Sewing

The long, bright string of the sunset lingers
The evidence of God's golden fingers
The push and pull of his amber needle
The sound of his steady, windy treadle.
Dotted with stitches, the evening sky
Spreads out with the breath of his soothing sigh
And he spreads out the blanket across his knees
Checking the angle of each shade-tree.
Then, with a final pull of the thread
Gently he eases the heavens to bed
Knotting the sun so she's snuffed from the hills
And knitting the color of moon on the rills.

After Winter

Dreams drip through the frozen seams
Of a dozen crystallizing streams---
'Tis easier to find a dream
In Spring, before Fall bears her wing.
The seed that from its birthday pushes
Reminder of the heady rushes
That comes when one hopes for a thought
To bring a light where there was not.
In winter, snow blankets what is new:
Letting nothing break the frosted dew---
Spring is where the sparrow builds her home
And every bough climbs through soft heaven's dome
And every dream, with every curling frond
Lets loose its chains, and rusts its stifling bonds.

Somewhere Sea

The gentle arm of a distant shore----
Stretches---a million miles or more
Away from this memory's thought of mine
Splashing with fragrant saltwater brine.
Heaven's door must remain somewhere beyond
Past this wide ocean, over the pond
Lungs breathing carefully cries of the gull
Each little crest like a trickling hill.
Grasped under thumbs of the rustic brown ports
Enclosed by the gates of our human courts...
No...Mortal today, heaven tomorrow
Across the undulating foaming furrow.

Rain Regainer

Clouds remove the sparkling sun
Tear; a loaded cobalt gun
Bleeding with the sight of rain
Tears that make one feel insane.
Silently, uplifted hands
Dare to touch the stormy air
Dare to feel the crushing storm
Dripped in autumn's hazy warmth.
Think not that rain heralds hate
Or the sun has come too late
These dark clouds are neither tears
But life---replenishing the years.

Flower Field

Pass daily through the flowered field,
As if the loss of such a place
Would cause the beating of your heart
To cease, appalled to lose its grace.
The buds will soon fade with the light
The crickets drag their emerald wings
The stream that borders in between
Be passed with snowflakes' ivory rings.
Smell yet the poppy's fragrant throat
The wind that passes through the weeds
And fingers feet of butterflies
As they flit through the riffling leaves.
Walk daily through the flowered field,
Or autumn, with her fallen face
Will paint the wild roses brown
And turn to winter, in its haste.

His Beauty

Pale white woods in hazy rains
Snow that tears the woodland lanes
Herring iced with frosty foam:
This is what I dream of, when alone.
Thick green trees laced thin with sun
Roes with sides of heaving dun
Skies, eternal, splashed with blue
This is what I dream of, when with You.

Daily Posts

I just wanted to mention quickly that I'm planning on posting daily (except perhaps on Sundays) to, hopefully, increase my followers.

Please feel free to list me on your own blog rolls. I'd really like to have a few more followers, since 3 of my own mysteriously disappeared recently.

Many thanks,

August

Silent Night

The silence of the moonlight
Slips through the empty sill
A quiet that is telling
Of loads of time to kill.
The warm, eternal hour
Beats wind against the pane
And floods the lawn with power
Of heads of rushing grain.
A mockingbird sings softly
A tune that no one knows
And buds burst into blossoms
Beneath the starlit glow.
It seems all drooping silence
As if no creature stirred
But slowness is the novel
Of evening worm and bird.