I try to sing words
from my heart
to voice the things
I long to say.
I try to harmonize
my part
to synchronize
to find a way
to be with God.
But often times
my song is dry
or full of fear
and faded dreams.
And then no matter
how I try
right notes elude
and it just seems
that God’s not there.
But, would I exist
without God’s song
would my heart beat
could I still sing?
Perhaps, somehow
I’ve got it wrong
and Sacred Mystery’s
wondering
Where I have been?
These long weary work days
they keep going by
and then all the weekends
they just seem to fly
So many hours
in offices wandered
so many years
so much of life squandered?
Corporate jargon
“career paths” and more
goals and ambitions
just what’s it all for?
Still, there is some good, too,
like friendships that form
as we all keeps as busy
as bees in a swarm.
But for now, weary work days
and long “on-call” nights
Early retirement?
Ha! No end in sight!
On the quantum level
past, present and future co-exist.
On the quantum level
particles can be in two places at one time.
So, what changes
in our “real” world?
Or are the quantum rules our rules too,
but we’re just too busy to notice?
I wrote this first poem in 1991 and the second today. I think the years in between have given me a slightly different perspective.
Autumn (1991)
With falling leaves
the trees weep
for the warmth that is gone,
for the sleep which is to come.
Through swirling winds
the trees groan
for the crickets’ chirp,
for the green ferns.
Weep for lost songbirds.
Mourn the fallen branches.
Soon, Winter’s fury.
Gone, Summer’s lease.
Spring holds its breath
while Autumn sighs.
Autumn (2012)
Crunchy brown leaves
Crunchy red apples
All too soon, crunchy, white snow.
I love autumn
but it also makes me sad
to see so much change.
Deep green pines
Deep orange pumpkins
All too soon, deep winter night.
I know death
gives way to new life
but my heart still aches with the loss.
Empty branches
Empty fields
All too soon, bird-song empty skies.
But that is the joy of autumn,
anticipating the beautiful regeneration of coming winter
which holds the promise of a new spring.
Peaceful, graceful, bulkhead slicing
through glass waters like a diamond.
Lilly pad sundials defining the waterways
and carpeting the shoreline.
Herons rise.
Frogs and turtles, mysteriously absent–
As are my anxieties
As are my responsibilities.
Nature opens her arms to me in a startled deer’s watchful stare,
in a shaded grove of ferns and pines.
The waving grass whispers my name
and the silence of the fields bids me welcome.
Worries forgotten
duties released
in nature’s embrace
I find blessed peace.
