Lenten Quiet Day

Tears tear open heart-eye ducts; salt tears
wear their way through frozen conduits.
Holy tears mix with sacred sweat
clearing sullied love-streams.

Welcome, mystery of stillness,
voice of peace at words’ fringes.
Come calm frazzled brain circuits.

Majesty of silence, embrace
of serene breath beyond sound,
beyond movement, soothe nerve-wracked edges.

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Diamond-dotted, ermine-cloaked Lady Snow,
seductive in lingering moon shadows,
Be forewarned: beware the slides of March.
This is your final predawn beguiling.
Hush that always-winter-never-Easter song!
Sunrise foretells your crystal meltdown;
Lent marches on, unrelenting.
Tomorrow we spring forward.
Black branches will lose highlight contours,
evergreen boughs drop fluffy shrouds.
Purple crocuses, yellow daffodils
will spring forth from snow-soaked soil.

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Today’s Walk


Wind-chimes hallow my walk
between pristine blue and white
on single shovel-width path
past small and larger homes
down to my all-season magnet,
Greenbelt Lake.

Among the still trees
unidentified flying subjects
emit intermittent tweets.
Some I attempt to interpret:
“See, see, see, see; hear, here,”
perky mantras.

Suddenly I’m startled
by a man on my left saying
“Told to do this we’d prob’ly balk.”
“True” I reply “but we choose….”
Musing: told not to do this walk
I would prob’ly balk.

What could keep me inside,
avoiding this snow-packed trail?
How could I ignore these grand white
gulls, black wing tips spread wide?
Could I compose a soul poem
on a day without a walk?

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Joyous Return

Back home in┬áDayspring’s Lodge of the Carpenter,
coming to life after hibernation.
Yoke Room window vista beckons.
Soon I will leave this fire-crooning warmth and
join the steady crowd of tall bare trees,
thankful beyond words for their magnificent
yet humble, vulnerable endurance.
My eyes will rise to where their twig and bud tips
touch the unbelievable blue expanse.
Stinkbug on foyer window does not distract from
brown-grassed meadow panorama beyond
papery leaf-lit carpeted yard
edged with white tufted milkweed stalks,
harbingers of summer monarchs.
Snow-laced mown paths invite me to venture forth
down to the Lake of the Saints.
On the way I will pass the vivacious evergreens
who seem to greet me by name, “Good Morning, Marjorie”
and expect my recognizing response, “Good to see you again,
Ruthie, Elizabeth, Louise, Theresa, Pauline…”

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Love Answers

We weep and whisper: When? How?
Will Love wash away worry?
Weary of worldwide wars, we
wait and work and watch and walk.

Where are the witness windows?
Why do we worship wine, wheat,
flowers, wings or whatever
when all we wish for is Love?

Questions wax but wisdom wanes.
Bewildered, wistful, we ask:
What wild wind can wear down walls?
Who welcomes Love’s indwelling?

Love answers: Women, weavers,
whistlers and all who wonder.
Your womb of love will swell with
warmly watered winsome words.

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Vivid Voice of Love


Vast in evening vistas, visceral in
vesper services,
Vivacious Love envelops all who view,
moves us to review.
Ever-living Vine, viaduct of Love
keeps us viable.
All-revealing Love validates visions,
voids all vitriol.
Vivid Voice of Love revives our voices,
invigorates us.
Invincible Love invites everyone:
Receive vocation.

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Ultimate Love

You understand our unsung tunes
Ultimate Love. We stutter and hum
undone by the undertow.

Umbilical Son, unite us;
uphold the human universe
in unplugged multi-hued luster.

Eucharist Love, cut us loose from
undulating underwriters and
ubiquitous gunrunners.

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