Journey Time – Mulled Psalm 5

Immune to panic attacks

and fearless of heart attacks:

it’s time to take a break from

racking brains, losing traction.

No matter the odds are stacked:

we grandparents are all packed,

driving cross-country, striving

to link continentally

divided families.

Call us stark raving glad,

we are covered in grace

state to state, relearning

the art of companionship.

Life with You is carefree, wondrous!

We’re refreshed, embraced, protected.

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Will Sleep Well Tonight – Mulled Psalm 4


Out of putrid coal-fired smog,
defying oil tanker gloom,
on countless shorelines we stand:
Hands Across the Sand.

Frowns fade; anger at greedy
trade advocates dissipates.
Eye-lights dance in Your sea breeze:
we are not alone.

God, You call us to Your service.
Loving One, we know You hear us.

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Peace, Be Still: Mulled Psalm 3

Word funnel clouds loom:
Jagged chunks of debris whiz,
bang, thud online and on air;
brainstorm tornadoes roar
through boardrooms and classrooms
sucking up hearts.

Fossil fuel barons barrel ahead
from wealth to wealth, heedless of health hazards,
leaving leaks, quakes, spills in their wake,
wasting precious water, poisoning air;
discounting drought, fires, tsunamis,
rising seas, refugees and other
planetary insanity.


Yet every night your children sleep serenely;
each new dawn brings Your renewing.
Holy Creator, Wondrous Re-Creator,
You will disrupt the disrupters
and gather Your Shalom seekers
for faithful earth-tending.

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Speaking Truth to Power: Mulled Psalm 2

On the U.S. Capitol steps
what joy to read outloud in turn
Job 37 through Psalm 8!

Vibrant thanks, Divine Inspirer,
You raised my voice for one half hour
in the 90 hour readathon.


Jesus, my heart heard You praying
between lines and beyond sirens,
praying and proclaiming Your Truth:

Someone is in charge; Creator’s
cosmic, Love-generated law
supersedes all competing codes.

Congress, committee chairs, PACmen,
people who throw your weight around,
cease; desist. Listen: come kneel now.

Hear Love’s Son named to rule all hearts.
Love and serve with Servant Leader,
always radiant, always at peace.

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At the Table: Mulled Psalm 1


Sunny May bird symphony
signals joyful community.
Can you hear it, Joyce and Dave,
Nancy and Marv, Heeyun, Judah,
Stephen, Sekou, all who have
seen these trees and imagined this
home an embryo of Shalom?

Will new and returning guests
realize Creator Redeemer’s
presence here? This afternoon
my heart hears plaintive mourning dove’s
call: bring your senior friends round
this table for Bible Study.

Loving Spirit whispers: sons,
daughters, grand and great-grandchildren
will gather. You will savor
Live Words at all hours and thrive
with God-freshened, Joyous Peace-Seekers.

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8 a.m. Last Day of March

Walking into renewed joy, gently cheered by gurgling creek, robin song and sparrow’s swoop between fence rails. Freshened by spring onion pungency. Calmed by the balance of wood’s reflection in pond. Invited, invigorated, invested, delighting in the light gray, white, blue sky layers: sun persisting, radiating, fading, then brightening again. Daylight streaming between trees, igniting insights, instigating smiles and cheerful greetings. Hyacinth and daffodil buds on the verge of colorful revelations. Moist soil awaiting new seeds and seedlings. Grass greening. Squirrels scurrying a quickened pace. Heart spring toward the One who makes all things new. Eager steps, stronger pulse, breathing in exclamations, breathing out questions. Alive in heaven’s pure nowness, holy newness. Before the daily tangles and snarls when hearing is attacked by shame vibes and sight blurred by angry or sad or hurt faces. Before exhales morph to exhaust and inhales need filters.

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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 Dayspring’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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