Melancholy
Ode to a Ginkgo’s Leaves
O yellow, sometimes e’en
gold, but with a tinge of slightest green,
undulating before my gaze,
each leaf’s changing
as the sun o’er my shoulder
leans, o you, dear leaves, doth arrest
me in my tracks, because
there is something
about your countenance,
which makes me believe you once
cradled my Savior’s
Shadow as He walked past.
John 20:29
(“How Happy Are Those Who Believe Without Seeing Me!”)
And so tonight the dark
rolls over me, and my soul sighs,
and I let the effects
settle and stay upon me,
because there is
naught to do otherwise,
except to watch as
do sentinels for daybreak,*
when God’s face over
my doubt rises.
Winter Ode
O’ hardened hearts,
Do you despair as if gone fore’er
Is your spring, and as if
Your fate is to eternally
Hang flash-frozen in drips
Attached to this winter field’s
Meanderings?
O’ hardened hearts,
Nothing stays frozen fore’er,
E’en if it be on a
Branch which someone
Happened by, reminding them
Of what they want not
To remember.
O’ Fallen Leaf
Like an unexpected
Hug you are to me, or an
Extended palm to
Grasp in blessing, but
‘Something’ good you
Definitely seem – a leaf to
Wish me goodbye,
E’en as we’ve just met and
Say our first hello,
Each in mystery passing,
Each cloaked in our
Seasonal disguise to
Face the cold.
Here
Click for meditationRegarding "Here"
I have been to Plum Island
So often, starting from when I was
Just a little boy ten years old, right up to
The present when I was there three
Times during a magical stretch in October.
Instead of thinking pumpkins, though,
I was thinking about “grief,” but
Also about “rebirth.” Plum Island is my
Sanctuary when I need sanctuary.
It is my piece of Heaven,
When I need to be reaffirmed
In my faith and to feel the
Absolute awe and wonder of
The eternal Creator, the God of
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,
The “I AM WHO I AM.” So
Over the years, each individual
Wave and sea state, when
I would come and look out over
The boardwalk, has gifted
Me a peak, a hint, into the
Infinite possibilities of the forms
And faces of God, and when
Each time the bare ripple of the
Foam of a wave has touched
My feet, it has always done so in a
Way in which understanding and
Acceptance were conveyed.
Here at Heaven’s gate
Laps nigh my feet in its final
Wake the tide, bare
Seconds before returning
Back out to where it
Will regather into all its foam
And former strength,
And then once more
Come rolling back, to
Kiss where in another life
I had in memory’s bliss this
Sand reclined.