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Saturday, 1 March 2014.
What artist illustrates all that is seen. With strokes of yellow, red and blue combined? What great magician gives the grass its green. And colours every substance light can find? And what composer writes the symphonies. Playing endlessly in this great concert hall? From whence the hissing of the air through trees? Who gives the nightingale her lilting call? What great perfumier makes life so sweet. What alchemist makes memory replete.
Once alive as a tree known. Graceful swaying in the winds. Then in maturity struck down. Striped of branches and loaded. So many seen as nests. A Kleenex for blowing noses. Yet even worse fates known. To be a piece of toilet paper. While pretty low on ladder. Their favorite is to escape.
Sunday, April 5, 2015. The Hope of the Resurrection. Though I have watched so many mourners weep. Those dead seemed but the shadows of my days. Now though you go on smiling in the sun. Our love is slain, and love and you were one. You are the first, you I have known so long,.