Miracles

The dark half of the year has come
There is a dearth of light
And even at the crest of noon
You see the coming night

But even in the year’s dark half
God’s miracles hold sway
The great ones drive the course of life
The small ones shape each day.

They’re often hard to recognize
We just don’t see them there
We call it serendipity
Sometimes it’s answered prayer

But in each little miracle
You’ll find God’s loving hand
Directing all the many turns
That we can’t understand.

For in the dark half of the year
When day seems close to night
There is, within the darkness, still
A glimmer of the light!

An Angel of the Lord Apeared

An Angel of the Lord appeared
An Angel of the Lord.
How could you know he was from God
Should you just take his word?
He didn’t come with trumpets
Or with a fell swift sword
He just showed up at church one day
And claimed he brought you word.

An Angel of the Lord appeared
An Angel of the Lord
And what a tale he had to tell
A dream long dead, restored
A child you knew could not be born,
Age can’t just be ignored,
Is now about to come to birth
Upon a stranger’s word.

An Angel of the Lord appeared
An Angel of the Lord
And you just had to challenge him,
Which you could ill afford,
For now all comments have been hushed
Your wife may soon grow bored,
But you will have that baby boy
A blessing from the Lord!

Then an angel of the Lord appeared to him, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. When Zechariah saw him, he was startled and was gripped with fear. But the angel said to him: "Do not be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you are to give him the name John.
Zechariah asked the angel, "How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well along in years."
The angel answered, "I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to tell you this good news. And now you will be silent and not able to speak until the day this happens, because you did not believe my words, which will come true at their proper time."

Luke 1: 11-20

The Light Shines in the Darkness

An owl is calling hauntingly
From somewhere in the night
Hiding within the winter boughs
Beyond my line of sight
A lonely disembodied voice
That lives outside the light.
And yet this creature of the dark,
This child of wind and flight,
Is not constrained by darkness but
Is free by Heaven’s might.
For though the darkness seems so strong
It vanishes with light!



Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.

John 1: 3-5

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving mornings in my world always follow the same pattern. The smell of cinnamon and yeast hot from the oven. The trees, lost in mist on the opposite shore. The sun striking gold from that mist as it begins to clear the tops of the trees, then hot molten silver as it rises higher into the morning. Today the air is soft, almost warm, as I stand in the sunlight on the deck. A small flight of swallows dances and scatters around me and a large gull circles slowly overhead wondering if there is anything for him in the flurry below. The usual serenade of song birds and winter ducks touches the absolute quiet of the morning and the sunlight, finally burning through the last of the mist, bridges the dark water of the inlet from shore to shore in a shimmering path of light. Is it just me or does this morning seem to be a bit more precious than the one yesterday? Same trees, same sunlight, same birds, same morning mist, same steady unchanging rhythm of life. And yet, this morning, the rhythm is a bit sweeter, a bit more cherished.

For this place, I give thanks.
For this peace, I give thanks.
For the family and friends with whom I share it, I give thanks.
For those who secure this for me through their service and sacrifice, I give thanks.
For He who’s Grace has blessed me and this nation, I give thanks.

A Work of Imperfection

A little too fat, a little too loud
A little too rough, a little to proud
Often too willing to be led astray
And always ready to shirk work and play
Hopelessly sinful, hopelessly flawed
Yet, my beloved, still precious to God

The Dawn of chipper Day

The restlessness of yesterday
Swirled in my dreams last night
Scattered flights of deep dismay,
Sleep disrupting fright.
Too slight to take all sleep away,
They left me clenched and tight,
But with the dawn of chipper day
I seem to be alright
Most of the demons held at bay
Who torment me at night.

Thanksgiving is but days away
And with it much delight
The things for which I’ll thankfully pray
Outweigh the fears of night
Here, in His Grace, with faith I’ll stay
And faith will set it right

Casablanca

I’m restless tonight, distracted.
The muse is silent, sulking,
Unable, maybe unwilling, to touch my mind
As it wanders in the drifting fog
Restless and distracted.

The holidays approach
So much to do, so much to bear,
So much that cannot be helped,
So much I want to share.
And there is no one there.

Packages I need to send
Gifts I need to make,
Commitments I need to make
Blankets I need to make for the boys
Not boys, Men, serving in the growing cold.

Focus, focus and shut out the noise.
Casablanca in the background
Lonely echoes of a lonely heart
Knowing they make the difference doesn’t make it easy
“Here’s looking at you kid”
But I’m not. Because they are far away
In the mountains, in the dessert, in the war.
I never knew them,
Just names from the heart of a loving mother
To a friend she never met
To the post office with love and pride and hope that one day
“Here’s looking at you kid” will be true.

Maybe tomorrow the world will settle back into place
But not tonight… tonight it’s cold, it’s dark
It’s Rick and Ilsa, good-bye forever
A hill of beans and the drifting fog
And a restless, distracted mind.

The Wind Dance

The wind chimes play a rowdy tune
The branches dance with glee
The rain sits out a dance or two;
This one’s just wind and tree.

I did not plan to take time off,
Just an hour of two,
But I enjoy watching the dance
I want to see it through.

The sweeping grace, the frantic pace
The bow, the whirl, the spin
A rest between the dances, then
It all begins again!

And So The Winds Begin

The season of the winds is here,
The trees are tossed and thrown.
The branches writhe, they flail and twist,
Forsaking spine and cone,
And driven by the demon winds
They creak and grind and moan.
Some scatter, broken on the ground
Some crack like breaking bone
Yet, most remain defiant still
Though gale force winds have blown

The season of the winds is here
Like many that we’ve known.
And it will last for months on end
It’s not one storm, alone.
Yet, as they have in seasons gone,
The trees stand where they’ve grown,
And they will stand for years to come
As those past storms have shown.

Dancing with Faeries

The Faeries danced with me tonight
Beside a moonlit sea
I felt the wind caress my hair,
The starlight kissing me.
The soft silk grass beneath my feet
Bobbed to the Faery tune
As round and round I whirled and danced
Beneath the Faery Moon.

And then they left me here in sleep,
Beside the water’s shore
My joy they took; my joy they’ll keep.
I know what lies in store…
Tomorrow I will wake and weep
And I will dance no more!

An Eerie Night

The night seems strange to me somehow;
A slowly growing chill,
The smell of wood smoke, faint but clear,
A breeze that’s lost, and still,
The stars are cold and distant friends;
Aloof, though always near,
The mist is frayed, it’s here and gone,
Like laughter without cheer.
And yet within this eerie night,
Beneath the cheerless sky,
There is a spark of something else;
A joy that will not die,
A laugh that’s waiting to be heard;
A dream that still might fly.
As if, there, at the edge of night,
Lost love holds back a sigh…

A Long Week Nearly Done

I’m looking for a quiet night
This week is nearly done
I’m looking for quiet night
The race has been hard run
I’m looking for a quiet night
I long for peaceful dreams
I’m looking for a quiet knight
Within those peaceful dreams.