Category Archives: Poems

God, who is everywhere and within, whose every name is holy, whose kingdom is, whose will is, thanks for each days needs, fulfilled or not, help us to forgive us for our sins for you are forgiving us always, lead … Continue reading →

Two grand trees stand near each other in our woods. One is elm, split base, long branches, trunks, more like, squirrels home in its hollows, chipmunks burrow in its roots. Across the narrow creek between, the other, a maple, single … Continue reading →

Johnny Mac was fourteen carrot Irish, orange-red hair, brown freckles. Skin, scorched nearly pink, by summers sun. Five years older than me, maybe more. I would never know. We could be buddies though, because, as my mother later whispered, Johnny … Continue reading →

That there is chaos does not mean there is no order. That the merlin mangles dove, his talons cracking neck and breast while doves heart still beats and brain knows does not mean Order is not prompting from the wings, … Continue reading →

My Father sang his songs to me, but I, for so long deaf, heard his melodies and words only a decade before he died. So, I had, instead of sixty, rather ten years to learn how to sing our songs … Continue reading →

I need no bibles guarantee of immortality. I need simply to sit and see, growing in the grotto I cut in our woods, a young maple tree, standing among other saplings staring high into a grove of old oaks and … Continue reading →

I used to think, maybe if I can just learn to live until I die, I’d be a very lucky guy, or, maybe, if I could learn to cry whenever I needed to cry, I’d be a very lucky guy, … Continue reading →

Baby Jesus wrapped in burlap. Mary and Joseph softly glow. The nativity, wreathed in snow. We take a moment, ignoring wires, to consider the Christ, sired by the Maker of this winter and this ice. Though we rejoice with synthetic … Continue reading →

Our new cathedral, now four posted, blanketed in quilts and cotton. Our most holy place, luxury between sheets. When we take our warm communion, it is our love substantuated. Then, as two amiable spoons, cosseted in the silver drawer, we … Continue reading →

All my winter friends returned! The downy woodpecker, the downside up nut hatch, the determined black cap, even the junco, who pecks at the suet holder where once he scrounged droppings in the snow, and the big ones, the blue … Continue reading →