Between More

Cold may show up
wet and gray
or disguised as
a sunny day

Like love and other
things in between
more appropriately
felt than seen



Sit perfectly
still. Focus
on the blueness.
Gradually the barely perceptible
motion of the majestic
clouds becomes apparent
so excruciatingly slow
you can’t be certain
if it is them
moving or you
sensing the spinning
of the earth
into the beautiful void


I mute the volume
of all I can control
to let the message
of the rain seep into my soul
the dripping in the eaves
random acts of gravity
lemming raindrops
plunging into a sea
of themselves

The noise of passing
traffic transformed into
a hissing of tires on wet
pavement wondering
complaining “just what
IS the hurry?” in this
gray damp existence

After too much dry
and dusty things are
being cleansed, yes,
unseen things are being
nourished in the Lord’s
mysterious ways


I opened the door
to watch it rain
and let cool fresh air
into my domain.
Birds went about their business
in spite of soft thunder,
the warm earth steamed a bit,
another source of wonder.
By and by, the western sky
brightened and sunlight shined
through dripping leaves, as rain
still fell, cleansing my mind.
There was no hurry to close the door,
this peacefulness just makes you want more.

Soul Shiver

The distant cry
of the hungry wolves
under the cold moon
cannot harm us beyond
a shiver in our souls
still perhaps we should
stay inside lest they
be drawn close by the
smell of our fear

Or we could strive
for their friendship
with scraps in the yard
at the risk of going
hungry attempting
to satisfy their appetites
and knowing that

To err on the other side
of caution may lead
to a test we’d rather not take
so let us draw the blankets
close and gaze into the fire
waiting for them to fall silent
and how shall we sleep, then?

Little World

The window’s too dirty
to really be sure
so I had to open the door
and step outside to see
what’s going on in
my little world

The advertised precipitation
seems to be waiting
like Santa Claus
for me to go to sleep
before delivering
next morning’s surprise

It won’t matter much
I’ll do what I must
avoid what I can
until I come up with
a better plan


I could not pull the trigger
I could not cut the cards
I could not swing the bat
don’t know why it’s so hard
pretty good at watching leaves
turn from green to brown
and December breezes
send them to the ground

The motions I keep going through
don’t take me anywhere
except further from the time
I was inclined to dare
now I hear a bird sing
just outside the window
when he flies away
I wish that I could go