Poetry

Floating on water Aware of Presence within Paddle back to Earth

When I lose sight of the Way When I wander away Call me to return and pray   You are good, good, good   June, warm with a cool breeze, high noon Alone, thousands of miles from home A road-less-traveled showing; Wheat growing, Spirit flowing Slow-walking, no talking, Bending and ascending to Francis   When

Phantom cathedral bells toll, and he recalls the icy air frozen on his hair. Stars twinkled, and mist sprinkled. Crows mocked his fright and flight from fight night; they trolled in full rolls. Oh, the bells, the bells, the bells! Their rhyming and chiming etched time and crime in his mind. Oh, the bells, the

We are but dots that drip and drop and disappear in ever-expanding ponds… but, fortunately, grace overflows from the master artist atop Inviting to play in light shows and cement the everlasting bond.   Help us lust for wonder to humble our hearts anew and know it’s You. Overwhelm our senses in fantastic spaces with