Born to Rant

My greatest thoughts
about God’s creation
seem to get lost
in the translation
like shadows in Plato’s
cave they aren’t much
compared to the sky
and Her masterful touch

But it seems that I was
made for the trying
just like a sparrow
is made for the flying
or maybe a chicken
is made for frying
or maybe tears
are made for crying

You see? Even when I try
to stop, I can’t.
That’s why I believe
I was born to rant.

Heavens Turn

I walked out to watch the sunlight fade
a crescent moon pursued
and so I stayed
to see if the stars would follow suit.

The heavens turn too slowly
there were demands on my time
so I had to go back in
before I saw them shine


I guess I picked the wrong night
the moon could not be found
and the stars could not quite compete
with all the electricity around
the city’s conveniences
not really improvements
to nature’s dance

I listened briefly to the insects’ chorus
passing cars adding tunes
the air not quite fresh but less
oppressive than high noon
then soon returned to my room
satisfied the universe would
continue its movements
without my assistance

Beyond the Clouds

The sky seems bluer beyond the clouds
after the shower has cooled things down
making it easier to breathe the air
and imagine that we have no cares

heat and worry may return tomorrow
for now let’s relax and enjoy the show
God puts on to soothe our hearts
when we really need His art.

Still Blue

The moon’s pale eye
in the still-blue sky
watches patiently waiting
for her darkness to come

gleefully choosing
tonight’s victims
the dreamers the lovers
the madmen

the unwary sojourner
glancing up to be transfixed
by the cool stare
frozen in time

as night sounds
katydids and distant
traffic and machinery
recede into echoes

and reality hangs
in the balance
joy and sorrow become
equal partners

with the beauty
of her fullness
being perfectly
enough for this moment

Feathered Friends

I might see storm clouds
I might see sunshine
or something in between
if I peek out of the blinds
the room is a lttle dark
some might even say gloomy
but my friends the birds are out there
and they’re still singing to me

The lies that I tell myself
about what matters or not
may help me through the night
but I don’t believe a lot
a seasoned seeker of the truth
is not easy to deceive
I just wish I didn’t have
so many things to grieve

So serenade me, feathered friends
lift me on your wings
so I’ll believe it’s worth it
when I, too, choose to sing

Merry Solstice

Sit in the sun
stand in the shade
melt in one
place or evaporate

Don’t mind the heat
or we wouldn’t be cooking
and half-dressed women
make for better looking

than Eskimos bundled
head to toe
(though snuggles are better
when it’s a little cold)

but a hot snuggle
would be better than none
when you’re delirious
from too much sun

I digress, we’re talking
about long days and heat
not what is or
isn’t sweet

so keep it cool
and stay hydrated
is overrated.