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THE PEAK CALLED OXFORD
I'll hike again the hills
of the peak called Oxford.
I'll smell again
the juniper and sage.
I'll feel the shining sun
upon my shoulders,
as I add another chapter
to life's page.
I'll hear the raucous calls
of the redwing blackbird,
as from his watery home
he sings aloud.
I'll see again the stag upon
the mountainside,
as he surveys his
domain, so proud.
Life may lead me on
to different places.
Each day may lead me
to a farther shore;
but, my heart will
stay in the valleys
and the mountains
of the peak
called Oxford evermore.
2-92
A CLOUDY DAY
Hear
the wind
in
the trees.
See
the clouds
in
the skies.
Today
we
will not see
the
sun rise.
Smell
the moisture
in
the breeze.
Soon
it
will begin
to
rain
bringing
water
to
parched, dry earth.
Then
my
garden
will
see rebirth.
The
world
will
turn
green
again.
6-22-85
CRACKLING AUTUMN
Autumn;
crackling grass and
soil underfoot,
golden leaves and crisp air,
inviting brisk walks
in the last few days
before winter is everywhere.
Find a golden grove.
Sit upon a rock
Near a bubbling stream.
Cast away your sorrows.
Call your soul
forth to dream
in the shorter days of
Autumn, full of red
and gold so bright.
Gather in a harvest
of glorious
Autumn light.
9-90
IRREVERSIBLE
When the butterfly breaks
her shell and bursts
from her chrysalitic hell,
her wings grow strong
to cross the sea
until, at last,
she is flying free.
Once her shell
is burst with all
her pain
the butterfly
can never
go back again.
She must go ahead,
must cross the sea
to meet head on
with her destiny.
7-12-89
A FIELD OF FLOWERS
Laying in a field of flowers on
a green summer's day,
smelling all the earthy fragrance
as the sun warms the soil.
Gentle breezes waft across me
bringing the song bird's tune.
I feel the grass beneath me,
so prickly, soft and cool.
The hot sun above me
warms more than just my skin.
There is solace, comfort found
in moments such as these.
Simple, restful solace that
comes from peace with God.
July 1985
REFLECTIONS
Night;
soft
as
black velvet overhead,
stars
tossed
like
diamonds;
but,
glittering
more richly
than
any earthly gem.
Quiet;
with
a
muted kind of
sound,
of peace
that
has lost day's
frantic
bustle
with
its
rush
to get things done.
Reflection
comes with
solitude,
and
only then,
it
seems,
thoughts
of love for
family,
and
friends,
and
God.
3-14-85
THE BARE TREE AND THE GREEN TREE
In my yard I saw two trees,
one was green and one was bare.
One was filled with verdant foliage,
cool and lush beyond compare.
The other tree stood barren
reaching empty branches high,
skeletal arms of death left
open to storm and sky.
I looked and started thinking
of two men on this earth.
There are some who call them brothers
through the accident of birth.
To see them wouldn't show it,
for their lives are worlds apart.
One is gentle, while the other
suffers hardness of the heart.
One resembles the bare tree.
His life holds works of grief.
He seldom has a smile,
his spirit has no belief.
The other is like the green tree,
good works come from his hand.
His branches offer shelter
to those who'll with him stand.
The green tree and the bare tree,
which of them shall I be?
To live with verdant foliage
or deadness is up to me.
Fall 1984
PEOPLE AND APPLES
I
see a shiny, golden apple
sitting
in the sun.
Outward
view doesn't tell
if
it's ripe or not quite done.
People
are like that apple,
sight
doesn't always show
the
inside of a person;
hidden
parts you must know.
If
you open up the apple,
take a tiny bite,
you'll
quickly know the content
whether
or not it's ripe.
6-2-92
ODE TO JENNY'S LAKE
TETON
VACATION
Water cascading,
frothy white,
down carved rock
channel.
Alpine lake
circled with
craggy, majestic
cliffs.
Green grass meadows
sundered by
cold,
crystal clear waters.
Red squirrel
chattering loudly
from his pine perch.
Tiny mushroom growing
primly on mossy
green throne.
Placid water
showing rocks contained
in
frigid green depths.
Golden mantled squirrel
comes to beg
from passers by.
Special moments bringing
thankful thoughts for
creation of earth.
1984
RATES OF SPEED
The story of the tortoise
and the overconfident hare
gives lessons that I need
to learn from that unlikely pair.
Slow and steady wins the race,
whether first or last.
Continuing in spite of odds
always deserves a place.
The fastest runners may arrive
before the slower do;
but, I wonder how much the fast one saw
as he went racing through.
2-23-92
The Wild Rose
With the sadness of the wild rose
that blooms along the lane,
her petals lost their color
to fall like autumn rain,
That rain that chills one to the bone
sucking life away.
Her sorrow pulls at all mankind
in a world turned somber gray.
She loved him completely.
There was no part of her that
failed in her love.
He loved her too; but, with conditions:
If she was not too fat,
If she was not too loudspoken,
If she was not too opinionated,
If she was not to introspective.
He loved her, but did he?
Or did he love a dream she could not be?
As the years passed, she tried
to change and arrange her
heart to fit his mold
until she thought it would break
and fall away.
Then he left, as he said he would.
She wept bitter tears of loss;
loss of love,
loss of life,
loss of him.
She felt old, useless, wasted.
She drank the bitter cup and gave
her last farewell,
turned her eyes to blackness
then drifted off to
hell
With the sadness of the wild rose.
1999
Faith and Rain
After an agonizing
drought,
the rain
has come at
last,
to fill the
mountain
springs
and our faith
which
returned from
the past.
11/3/88
Seasons of Living
A spinning seed falls from a tree in the autumn breeze.
It flutters and drifts until at length the current of
a stream moves the hapless seed toward the roiling seas.
For what will soon be, the thoughtless seed gives no concern
as each immediate moment gives a gleam, no more.
Most of the treacherous journey is hidden past a turn,
out of sight, with no one event causing any great fear.
Sometimes the seed moves slowly or with increasing speed,
Drifting only with the flow past berm or rock face shear.
The seed is dashed against rocks and logs along the way
as the cold, clear stream hurries its journey toward the sea,
where shining water crashes against the shore of the bay.
Then snow flurries begin. Winter forms with chilling air.
The seed is caught and held by the ice, locked in its grasp.
There it bides, still and silent, through winter without care.
At length, spring returns. The seed moves on toward the bay,
The water moves more slowly with goal near at hand.
The channel now is easy, no obstacles bar the way.
Drifting gently with the water until its washed ashore,
the seed at last finds soil in which to root and grow.
Tiny tendrils quickly do what has been done before.
So it is with me moved by forces beyond my sight
to this place where I’m released as winter gasps and dies.
I begin primordial change. At Last I see light.
1/19/92
Clouds and Rain
Sometimes it takes Clouds
and rain
to make the most
beautiful sunsets.
Sometimes it takes tears
and grief
to bring great joy
and love once
again.
I saw the sun set
after
the shower fell.
I felt my heart bloom,
bloom and prosper in
peaceful
serenity
through God’s
love for me.
6/03
Fresh Air
I felt so alone,
so cut off from my heart,
my feelings.
I knelt to pray.
My soul filled with quiet,
peaceful joy.
He heard the emptiness
echoing in the hollow
places.
He sent the thought
I needed to open
the window
that let in fresh air.
Weeds Grow
In my little garden weeds grow rank
among the flowers.
The flowers try to bloom
like bright spots crying for more care.
I kneel to pull the weeds
to let in the
radiant sun.
I see within my heart
that weeds of doubt and small sins
block the warmth of God’s love
from my soul.
3/04
Blackbird
I heard a blackbird,
at least I thought so,
off in the distance across acres of snow.
There is something in the air,
though cold snow still
covers my world.
There is a feeling,
a wistful hope
that winter’s back is broken,
that warmer days
will return
to bring spring.
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SING PRAISES
All earth shouts
of God's glory
singing praises to His name.
See golden fields
of harvest
as sunrise tells
His fame.
Hear the sound
of song birds
with joy His works proclaim.
Listen to the children
as with laughter
they exclaim their love
for Heavenly Father
not feeling any shame.
When Earth shouts
of God's glory,
sing your praises
to His name.
1985
THOUGHT ABOUT RAINBOWS
A rainbow is
green for growing things,
Gold for riches,
Red for warmth,
Lavender for gentle flowers,
Blue for peaceful evenings,
And yellow
for the sunlight
of loving...
You.
1985
RETURNING
On a cold
and dreary autumn
morn,
I went to the
place where
I was born.
I hungrily stared
at the trees
and swings.
I longingly saw
the familiar things.
Then a stranger
looked out from the
door
and I knew this
wasn't home
anymore.
7-12-89
SPRING RAIN
On
an early misty morning
rain
falls like tears of joy
for
winter's end.
The
rain falls
and
washes away the smudges
on
the face of mother earth.
She
gladly swells
with
new life
blushing
emerald green in
happiness
for spring;
green
that grows
and
covers death
of
winter
with
the softness
of
springtime's birth.
May
1991
SHELTER FROM THE WORLD
Beneath
a giant oak tree,
gnarled
and twisted and old,
I
listen to a brooklet
rippling
in morning cold.
I
look up through the branches
that
twist and curve out wide.
I
hear myriad song birds
singing
as they flutter and hide
in
the dense, dark green foliage,
an
umbrella to shade and cool.
An
eager, flitting humming bird
buzzes
past a sparkling pool.
Seeking
another flower,
he
leaves on unending quest.
Up
stream there is movement.
I
see long ears and breast
of
a tiny cotton tail rabbit
nibbling
on the grass.
Sitting
here in the quiet,
time
doesn't seem to pass.
It's
good to sit and ponder
the
beauty of this place,
to
pause and take reflection
away
from the madding pace.
Beneath
this giant oak tree's
canopy,
there is peace.
Here's
shelter for the weary
where
troubles seem to cease.
June
1985 - Vacation in San Diego
SPRING
DREAMS
It's spring outside
in the world so wide.
The grass is as green
as I've ever seen.
There are meadowlarks
singing a glorious song,
the kind that continues
the whole day long.
The crocus is here
bringing spring cheer
with violet hue,
some yellow, some blue.
The sun is shining
in a cloudless sky.
The insects and birds
are beginning to fly.
Look close to see
tiny leaves on a tree.
Cold winter is past.
Spring's here, at last!
4-14-85
HIS STARS
The stars are shining brightly
high above my head.
I hear the crickets singing
as I lay here in my bed.
The night is loudly quiet
in a peaceful sound of noise
that tells me life moves onward,
day and dark, each has its joys.
My mind remembers memories
of nights and days now passed
and when I think of night time,
one memory I hold fast.
The stars up there above me,
my father loved so dear.
He said that they were his stars
because of knowledge clear.
He knew each constellation
or so it seemed to me.
How he loved to talk about them
to any who would see.
His stars, he called them kindly,
in his gentle, loving way.
Now, that is how I see them
as I think of him today.
7-8-85
THE ROSE AND THE THORN
My love gave me a rose
once on a special day.
A glorious, beauteous rose
with fragrant, sweet sachet.
I thought there could not be
more perfection here
than this ruby rose
given by one so dear.
I took it in my hand
and felt a painful prick
for there on the rose stem
was a thorn that gave a stick.
I thought about the hurt
and joy my rose could give.
It reminded me of life
which each of us must live.
Life is filled with beauty
like a perfect ruby rose
with days that are so happy
the later memory glows.
It also pricks with sorrow
like the hidden thorn.
It may bring us grief
causing us to mourn.
I cannot help but think
that we are just a part
of what we each were promised
from the very start.
There must be good and bad,
opposites to see;
sorrow, joy, strife, peace,
hate, and tranquility.
All of this to learn from
before each life will end.
True happiness will come
when we comprehend
that life is like this rose,
Beauty, sure and true;
yet also, there's the pain
of the thorn that's showing through.
1985
PSEUDO TIGER
1986
Through the grass slowly creeping,
hunting with such proud display
of muscles bunching, rippling, as
he hunts his elusive prey.
Stalking, sneaking, tail tip twitching,
leashed power with feline grace,
he moves closer to the creature
he hunts for food in this place.
Suddenly startled, head alert,
the sparrow takes its flight.
Oh well, kitten, try tomorrow,
there's food in your dish tonight.
For Dusty
MORNING IN A MOUNTAIN VALLEY
Sunrise...
Water color painted clouds in azure sky.
Golden...
fields of wheat and ripening corn in valley wide.
Purple...
rigid mountains silhouetted 'neath the sky.
Peaceful...
rooster crows with brassy call to master sun.
Thankful...
to God who made earth shine for love of man.
1984
OUR PUP
6-4-86
When she was just a pup
she ran for hours on end.
She chased the butterflies.
The whole world was her friend.
She sniffed a rabbit's trail
and chased a little mouse.
She chased a skunk one day
then sneaked into the house.
She loved to ride in cars
or the back of our old truck.
Camping in the mountains
was her favorite kind of luck.
The years are passing by.
Her muzzle's turning grey.
She cannot run as fast
nor romp so hard in play.
Still we will keep her near
Till God must call her home,
then in eternal fields and
mountains she will roam.
For Pepper
Life’s Path
A walk upon a mountain trail
brought moments to reflect on
blessings
and on living as down the
path I trekked.
The shadows
and the sunlight in
dappled splendor lay in
the dust and
rocky spots that
were upon my way.
At once I was
reminded of life’s
path that we walk.
Sometimes it lays in sunlight
smooth dust and
rounded rock.
At other times,
it passes through shadowed,
darkened lane with
roughened, rocky places
to trip and
cause us pain.
If only we would
see past this
rough, dark
stretch we’re on,
not to far
the sun is shining
and the hard,
rough spots are gone.
8/7/88
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Environmental Laws
“And I, the Lord God, took the man
and put him into the Garden of Eden
to dress it and to keep it.”
Is this care of the garden,
the earth, then a commandment?
Spirit whispers “yes”
to care for the lands over which we are steward.
We are called to clean,
beautify and
maintain in order.
Is it less sinful for us to foul the water,
soil or air than it is to lie,
to steal, to cheat our fellows?
No, for we are told that God’s house
is a house of order.
Expectation to live in His house,
in His kingdom,
requires learning
His higher laws of order.
I Know Snow
The grass is brown.
The trees are bare.
The air is cold, so cold.
The sky is gray.
The clouds hang low,
dull harbinger of snow.
A chance of snow
to hide the bare,
to cover up the brown.
Chance of beauty
to purify.
Oh, come again clean snow.
Until I tire,
tire of the cold;
cold sapping my spirit.
At that moment
I know spring hides
just around the corner.
I smile.
1/18/01
Cycles of Life
Like the leaves of a tree,
the seasons of life
bud green then wither
and die.
Each leaf is replaced
with next season’s
growth filling
the measures of time.
The seasons of life
all ebb and flow
to follow
the pattern of God.
When one season ends,
another begins,
all in
eternal round.
The season to learn,
that is life,
goes up and goes down
on the way.
Whatever goes down
will soon come back up.
What withers...
will green once again.
7-31-2001
Soul food
New life in spring
brings
joy to weary minds
and hearts
that have ached
with the graying
cold.
The greening foothills,
the budding
trees,
give freely to the soul with
the hope they
hold.
3/30/92
April Fool
The sky
is cleaned
by the warm wind
that blows.
The air is fragrant
with new
life that grows.
My heart is giddy
as an April Fool
when spring
chases off
the winter snow.
4/1/92
Spring Fever
In early spring
my feet
crave
wandering on
velvet
green hillside
paths.
My soul hungers
for sight
of buds
and blooms
to make
my spirit
laugh.
So I wander
to fill my eyes
and ears and nose
with what
they’ve yearned.
Then, I liberally
lubricate
my skin with
ointment
for sunburn.
3/30/92
SummerDay
The morning sun rises quickly.
The valley mist fades away.
The songbirds gaily sing their songs
at beginning of the day.
Dew drops, like diamonds, glisten
at the touch of golden ray.
Frangrant odor fills the breeze
from the farmer’s new-mown hay.
Butterflies begin to flutter by.
Bees on flowers begin to play.
My world seems filled with gladness
on this beautiful summer day
1998
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