In the Sheepfold

Isaiah 43:1

(“I Have Called You by Name”)

Oh, ’twas an unforgettable,
gorgeous, autumn day, and the
most important thing
to the petite shepherdess
was that she teach me of each
sheep the uniqueness of
their blessed name…

Winter

Winter Prayer

O Lord, please close the
eyes and ears of my soul to mammon’s
every whisper and murmur.
How can I mirror Your perfect image
and likeness, if behind
my own rolled stone lies my
flesh as master?

Winter Writing

And thus, I return to my
writing, after a hiatus in autumn
lasting into winter, a soul
appearing adrift amongst the lost…
but maybe never far gone,
but rather more like Saint Paul –
restored at cold night to my
bridled, waiting horse.

Luke 17:11-19

"Where Are the Other Nine?"

“Go and let the
priests examine you,”
Jesus said, and so in fulfillment of
the Law all ten crocuses
obeyed. While enroute to the priests,
they were each made clean, but
only one crocus decided to
return and thank Jesus.
Jesus said, “There were ten
made clean; where
are the other nine?”
The only reply the lone
crocus could make was to stand
in praise, radiant amidst last
autumn’s leaves of brown,
now clothed in Easter’s
finest purple raiment,
and tho’ a Samaritan, no
longer lost but found.

The Lives of Leaves

The lives of leaves,
If ever they could be adequately
Described, lie enciphered
And deciphered
Before me in each
Their final rest, displayed
And splayed, but from
Creation’s inception
Having been touched by the
Hand of the Master,
And so in the Lord’s
Limitless grace, their colors
Now allowed to nestle –
Quilted and counted
Like loaves and fishes at
Tabgha, and in factors of seven
By the shores of the
Sea of Galilee multiplied.

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.