Each Breath, Inspiration

Write 31 days, Day 9
Today’s prompt: Inspire

To inspire is
to breath life.
So often we wait
for something…anything
to energize us
to get creative juices flowing.

But are we paying
to the present
moment?

-To criss-crossed rakes, slumbering
beneath the blanket
quilted leaf by leaf.

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-To a 9 year old
contemplating the rain or perhaps
multiplication’s complexity.

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-To ducks
upon ponds and puddles
contemplating the rain or perhaps
multiplication’s complexity.

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-To a benevolent Dane
enthroned upon
a burgundy dais
overseeing the play
of his loyal subjects.

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Each whisper…each blink
a breath
an inspiration.

For reflection: 
What inspires you in this moment?

Zion’s Comfort

Write 31 days, Day 8
Writing Prompt: Comfort

Day after day
I awaken to the pain
of disintegration,
citizens
hell-bent upon
being right,
which necessitates
someone
being wrong,
and not just wrong
–gloriously wrong–
indeed subhuman.
Our tongues
are uncoiled whips
whose razored tips
rip apart
human dignity.
The shining city on a hill
stands enveloped
in a cloud of dust and ash
that rises from its
crumbling foundations
and society’s conflagration.

Where then is our comfort?
Where is our hope?
Not with earthly powers
that govern the shining city
with inequity,
but with the LORD
of Mt. Zion,
which radiates with
the beauty
and goodness
and glory of God.

For the LORD comforts Zion;
he comforts all her waste places
and makes her wilderness like Eden,
her desert like the garden of the LORD;
joy and gladness will be found in her,
thanksgiving and the voice of song.
(Isaiah 51:3 ESV)

For reflection: 
Reflect upon the goodness of God who is in the process of setting all things right. 

Morning Greeting

Today is National Poetry Day, which is as good a time as any to share one of my older poems, written in 2015.

Black birds in black trees
     wings and branches
     stretched heavenward in morning praise
     silhouetted against the pastel Southeastern sky
A world awakening
     coming alive

Venus looks down from her heavenly seat
     the last nocturne light to retreat

Leaves fall
     crows caw
          squirrels having a ball
greeting the morning with glee
chattering aloud, “Come see! Come see!” 

Autumn’s Bouquet

I smelled it today
for the first time.
Autumn’s bouquet
carried on wisps of wind.
Fallen leaves–
yellow crescents–
shuffle along the roadway.
Some still dressed
in vibrant greens
hang on to life and limb,
yet when I pause
beneath the drooping canopy
and listen
I hear death’s rattle
in their breath.
Sleep comes soon to them all.

Red

I dream of red apples
crisp in the fall, sun
hanging high in the afternoon sky
like a rosy tomato
succulent, bursting with life, blood
coursing through well-worn channels,
never to stop
signs of life, dazzling and sparkling wine
tasting Merlot with hints of cherry
jam, laden with sweetness upon my lips.

*This poem came about from an exercise in The Roar on the Other Side by Suzanne Rhodes. 

Jehovah Shalom

True peace is found not
in the absence of conflict,
but in its midst; not
on sunny days
but in storms,
for peace is not
a function of circumstance
but of being
held by the One
who is Peace.

Always in Beauty

From my book, Soil of the Divine

Morning breaks forth after cool night,
like a child from the womb
sometimes noisily
sometimes with barely a sound
but always in beauty.

Whether coiffured clouds
or baldheaded sun,
the morning’s emerging light
and blanket of dew
remind of God’s mercies
each morning made new.

From the womb of the morning,
the dew of your youth will be yours.
-Psalm 110:3

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