Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Morning Coffee

Low light on frigid peaks near and far.
Snow highlights unmoving heads of spruce
solid frozen mid November’s premature death.
Last gasp of the river escapes in a ghostly
blanket under shortened sun.
I shiver inside, robed and slippered
grasp the cup
drink your words

Friday, November 12, 2010

Ode of Halley’s Mother

Some hold their children like trophies
Look at what I’ve done
I’ve won the prize
Isn’t it perfect? Aren’t I good?

And theirs sit on the shelf
in the corner, gather dust
lifeless, boring prettiness
until boxed up and carried away

I watch you like a comet
rage across the sky
fly in the face of reason
flee all that burns of me

You play in black holes
and return unscathed
In your path is passion
laughter, drive

My setting sun glows
you rise to music
dash about time
shield your eyes to my light

In need of nothing
you feed on your own fire
forge personal trophies
spill sparks of your day to me

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Rule of Thirds

Early morning rises smoky
pink on gray granite
then fades to spotless blue over
brown and yellow shreds of late autumn

I focus my time lapse stare
on bare ranges, every peak
an undressed mannequin
waiting winter’s white dress

A honking flock sweeps past
the lone foreground spruce
in slow motion cinematic triumph
eludes capture

Monday, October 4, 2010

Coffee Rations

He looks me in the eye,
expresses gentle thanks
accepts the gift card I say
in the name of Jesus
pressing his arm so he knows
Touch and Who answered
the prayer from those blue 
eyes set on a leathery field
framed with scrub brush

The flag of his face follows
me to the car, drapes itself
over the passenger seat
and my mind
wanders along streets of militant
people who drove
his retreat to that
corner on this day
in the shy way
rain does not wish to fall 
on the just 

Saturday, September 25, 2010

On Campus

I say the long goodbye; leave you to your freshman start.
I feel six years old, clutch my brown paper bag of penny candy
want to cry over more inside than the melting chocolate
(they say bittersweet is the healthiest kind)
Is that what’s smeared on my face? It tastes wet and salty.
As our wheels crunch over pungent autumn,
the growing distance between us fills with falling leaves
until I cannot see you for the blur and flutter
of my eyes.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Prairie Storm

Rumbling thunder. Loud. Close.
Hail. Pea size. Heavy.
Raindrops. Large.
Love that deafening roar 
when I'm cosy dry 
safe in my little trailer.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Western Romance

The sun strides in from the prairie - guns blazing;
clouds slip away weeping and mountains hide
behind new skirts of snow.
Bough and branch applaud
and the wind hands its serenade
of sweet nothings to my ears.

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Whistler to Cache Creek

Narrow road snakes through canyons;
wearily climbs granite giants
crowded shoulder to shoulder
wrapped in frosted spruce.
They toss shale,
expose cleavages of marble,
drape their finery from heaven to earth,
drag ample hems through gurgling creek beds,
wade through rivers,
submerge in turquoise pools.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Perhaps "Why?" isn't the question

For all the ways you are weakened
For all the days you are sore
For all the things you’ve been seeking
The Lord has given you more.

For all the nights you are broken
For all the times you feel lost
For all the words left unspoken
God paved the path to the cross.

In suffering there is a reason
A purpose for feeling alone
Your tears may last for a season
His arms will carry you home.