Harvest Song

Bind us together, in
ache and space of
silence.

Together, bind us,
in tumble of words,
beginnings ever afters.

In song, bind us, in cry
and swoon, cadence
of verse, together.

Us together, bind,
in life that turns on life
and back again.

Bind. Us. Together.
Golden sheaf, fat against
the fire of dying sun.

Together, us. Bind
and lace with holy
cord, chafing grace.

This prayer was inspired by a post I did over at High Calling Blogs, called Together Road.

January

Air bites, presses.
Cold cajoles,
rushes, sears, dares
the little garland tree
stripped against
an ever-darkening
night. Stars twinkle
blue, cool, far,
bare promises.
Impossible white
tips evergreens,
blankets dead
leaves, eases to
depressions of
animal feet—
squirrel, rabbit,
racoon, deer.
Bamboo, dry, rustles,
casts shadows long.
No song of light
seems probable
around these winter
corners, streets laid
with ice. But dawn
will come, surprise
embrace, shocking
day to surer hope.

Fisher

I came
to the riverside,
cool can of worms
undercover beside me
fleshy squirming warm
invitations to bite, but
the fish were eating
dragonflies, emerald
hovering, jeweled;
could not be fooled
by a hunger which
was mine alone,
gnawing inside.


Sometimes I write things with my eyes half open. That's how this went. And when I woke, really looked, I saw You in every line, my Fisher-of-Humankind, my Love. I thought of how You came to the Jordan amidst the crowds that day. I thought of "Take, eat, this is my body" and "the Word became flesh." I remembered the prophet Hosea, how his life was an expression of You, pining after us, hungry for us, ever hungry with an everlasting love. I closed my eyes with the thought of all this, in thanks for yet another surprise from words written without intent.

Soul Dust

Snow sifts
softly, oh
so gently
covers
me.


This reminded me of that verse. About You covering Israel with your cloak. I couldn't find the verse this morning. Doesn't matter. It's there. Sure as Your hand, sure as Your cloak. Sure as Your love.