Equines

To think, lo aft all
these millennia, they still
patiently await their
Savior’s return, horses, gathered
as they are at the shoreline
of His heavenly carpet,
just as they were at
the Bethlehem stable and
amongst the crowd
of flowing, colorful robes
when Jesus whispered
the Beatitudes in
His Sermon on the Mount.
There was something
special about Him.
He listened to them, and
when He spoke, even
at ease were placed the
wildest tides. And
so now they wait…At first
they thought His
Second Coming would
be imminent, but that was
before they realized
He was not bound by simple
space and time. The
sand grains gave testament
and final clues to this –
finest granite rock
they once stood, sheer
slabs of almighty might, but now
in their humbleness,
reduced to infinitesimal
specks…content, imprinted
on the bottoms of each
horse’s hooves.

Saving Mercy

O Lord, “create in me
a clean heart” and wash the soiled
memories and reasonings
from the murals to which I cling.^*
“Leadeth me beside the
still waters,” wherefrom Your Love can
bathe my soul in Beauty.^**
O Lord, “create in me
a clean heart,” and I, in surety, can in
Your sheepfold rest in peace,
dipping my gourd into
Your living spring, eternally
slaking what before
could not be relieved.^***

Creature

O Lord, You held me
cupped in Your hands, cradled
in Your arms. You made
me to tenderly lie against
Your bosom. You formed me and
shaped me until I was as
close to Your image and likeness
as a human creature could
become, and then You
looked into my face and
breathed my name, and like a
tiny mustard seed in
the womb You placed me –
into the innocent,
lush garden of an in utero,
warm enclave.^*

Matthew 17: 1-5

"As They Looked on, a Change Came over Him"

Which
one Heaven,
which one Earth,
each’s seeming the
mirror reflection of the other,
each’s image and likeness
and raiment
transfigured as on
Mount Tabor – strikingly
white, blinding the
eyes of those who from the
waters and clouds
the voice of God
heard…

A Woman’s Loon

A loon, appearing at first
To be injured, flopping awkwardly
In a repetitive motion to
Move. . . thankfully caught
By the camera’s eye
Of a woman, who was
Searching for what she searches
On each new tidal pull of the
Moon. . . and lo’ the loon – ’twas in
Actuality fine and not hurt –
Just preening its wings
Before liftoff to
Heaven, having received
Its final blessing on sands writ
In God’s Holy Word.