Poems

One little leaf is waving at me— its fellow leaves already drifted down to meet the ground, performed their final dance of the season. But this little guy is hanging on— he seems to know I’m here watching, and needing to stay alert, to be cheered on, to remember I don’t have to do it myself—            it’s the wind            that makes me glorious            that moves me            that ignites my joy            that makes my brilliant light flash            a beacon to others            an act of praise to God—            as one of His “untired            worshippers.

Leaving behind the heaving surf of traffic the tide of timelines, we prepare with prayer— seeking true thoughts finding a secure rock. Called to hear, we listen: the sounding resonance of Soul guides and consoles us filling consciousness with Truth.

Speak to me, speak to me God’s angels, at my bedside. Speak to me, divine Love.

window flung wide— this everyday mind I thought was mine is Mind —Gwenn Gurnack.

waking in a flash wanting only true lines to guide the moment newly woven, quiet clarity compassion and forgiveness watering, soaking the ground. no need to be right, just awake to “the single complete movement of raising one foot and putting it down in another spot, as in walking”.

Returning after a long absence, I find The tall wooden, white columns support the front portico As they did twenty, forty, and sixty years ago. The green copper steeple still reaches for the sky.

Mother-God is here. The fussing can stop.

O sing unto the Lord a new song! Escape the dirge that is so old and dull, Sing new. Listen for Life’s ever-present presto.

Oh to be something,something      in Thee, and known as Thou art; Patient and gentle—loving,      of broken and contrite heart. Oh to be something, something      apart from this mortal man; Substance and life in Spirit,      living alone in I AM.

The hour may seem forlorn and dark while we decide which way to go. Yet He will be with us— pillar of fire or cloud, clear Word.