The seaweed moves with the sea. Limp it has no sturdy stem to keep it upright, and instead moves like a dancer might arch her back, unfolding from the arm of her partner. Giving him all her weight. The seaweed moves with the current. Yet holds on, adheres herself to lightly float, like the tree … More A Poem: Afloat

We wake up to God every day,the sights, the sounds.God is a long vowel in the soulseeking expression. We open the blinds, the windows.We see God arrivesto greet himself in us.The sweetness of recognition. We see the birds swoop pastfast in flight,intent on some mission for breakfast,for life. We breathe, and drink in thecleansed air, … More A Poem: Waking

The light follows. The beach extends out, a long limb of sand. To the edge, to the length of cliff. And we walk, run, with the light an unmoving accompaniment. We so small and the sun so far flung from us, it would seem we could never travel out from its gaze. As we turn … More A Poem: Following

How to know God?Stop to breathe,sink like a stone into the silence,from which all sound comes. Then travel and follow,the voice of the birds,the waves on the sea,the brush of branches in the wind. All activityarising from its origins in the wellspring,the storehouse of energy. And stop, close the eyes,see how the dark is a … More A Poem: How to Know

~ a poem for the traveller How often do we set the path,a goal in mind,to discover something else.Yes, who knows what’s down the road. And how often is the way,far from set in stone,a future undiscerned, folding outlike the road does, when we turn the bend. And how often do we stop to pause,get … More A Poem: The Road

What is home?Is it less four wallsthan four corner posts. More a scaffold throughwhich the wind moves,the sun focuses its warmth, wakes us each morning. And what is home,but something we put in our pocket, leave from, return too.Take out to turnin our hands. A well fingered stone,warm, smooth. And what is home,but that which … More A Poem: What is Home?

‘Again’, who can tire of such certainties. Does anyone tire of a sun that makes the days,the years. Does anyone tire of fresh eyes after rest,bodies that have cause to rise. Does anyone tire of hesitant hope,gaining traction at dawn’s new light. Is anyone though, not surprised. I know I am always surprised by the … More A Poem: Again

You are near as an answer to thought.You, who have heard me before I speak,or before I’ve wrestled even to forma concrete need to express.You are there,all knowing, and I am all known.Before I can draw sensefrom feeling.That it does not matterif I lack understanding.Prayer is a door to youand the Spirit, whose roleis not … More A Poem: Known

Whatever you might believe life is forever.You were made a leaf on a living treein a forest to eternity. Though a day’s length might be determinedby the rounding of the sun,a season by the passage from growth to decline, and the elements beyond your influence. The fact that you are more than a first flush,or … More A Poem: A Forest