Sermon Notes Poetry: Psalm 47

I didn't write much this time. Three poems. Two worth sharing. Here they are. An odd kind of sermon notes...


Psalm 47

All nations
see you rain on the mountains,
the rivers filled with
children of Israel,
Egypt, Babylon.
Fathers called Abraham
and not called Abraham, clamor,
and the rocks cry out
as the nations trek white-robed, palm-fisted
to the crown of the mountain
where our mothers promised
to meet us.


Revelations

Go leaf-keeping
this week,
turn Autumn
on end.
See if you don't
find God
right there, rough-cool
between your fingers,
yellow
burning.