Ocean Sunrise – Mulled Psalm 8


The child wakes early, before
anyone else in the house.
Quietly she ventures out,
eager to explore this new
place and time, glad for gulls cries
across dawn’s colorful skies
where mystery hovers over
constantly moving ocean.
Her eyes glisten with God’s tears
rippling, washing shore and cheeks,
tears of unabashed joy for
sun’s radiance and wind’s vigor.
The girl’s arms, hands, eyes raise like
a toddler’s “pick-me-up” reach
in pure adoring trust. Yes!
She is eight or sixty-eight,
alive in sea breeze, walking,
dancing as Brother joins her,
forgetting for now oil spills,
climate extremes, wars, hate crimes.

Your Excellency! Cosmos Creator,
Celestial King: Babies sound Your praises;
children’s chanting shames Your foes to silence.
You adorn our lives with Glorious Purpose
to tend life on land, in air and water.
God, Your Majesty! Holy Creator!

High Time – Mulled Psalm 7

It’s noon. No one can outrun the sun.

Ozone leisure zone is gone.

High noon flings regrets:

Sorry we jumped the gun;

better to have been a nun?

In this long June noon none can escape

January follies. New escapades,

mad dashes for shade, landscape make-dos–

all futile efforts to reimagine

heartache-free October families.

“You blew it!” burning rays blare:

took for granted clean air, soil, water, love.

Now too late to stave off trauma,

Earth teeters in triage on choke-point brink.

God Alive, our Hideout: Strong Love, rise,

preside, vindicate and empower us.

Trinity Monday – Mulled Psalm 6

Full June moon cannot contain constant unheard heart thirst pain.

Plastic keyboard’s background beat repeals babies’ hungry screams.

Eerie reminders echo, muting gut-tearing queries.

Ease eludes every effort. Disease disputes each comfort.

Cradles rock while split shale fumes poison wombs, multiply tombs.

Back off, demons! God listens, receives each tear, prayer and sigh.

Come Love Power, Three in One: be our Parent, Sibling, Son.