Lifted

The clouds aren’t usually this quiet.

They’re trying to sneak by unnoticed.

No definition. Looking a little pale,

they scrape the tree-line like a hangover.

The cool night chained them to the low places

and now they slip away into the light of day.

With their dissipation I am thinned,

the heaviness of dark lifted,

shadows spilling as a remembrance.

Forgiveness as the dew,

mercy as the burning thereof,

and grace its antecedent.

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Yard Lines or Riding the Pine

What if each day was a first down

and each conversation a well executed play?

What if forgiveness was called up

like a third string quarterback

and offences were pigskins

with strings attached?

What if what we said

we didn’t mean it,

and if we said we didn’t mean it

everything would be as it was

in the beginning.

No flags thrown.

There would be no riding the pine,

sitting like a judge on the bench.

There would be plays

and grass would be uprooted

and sweat would mix with the dirt.

Spittle would be placed over the speck

in our eyes and we would no longer walk the plank.

What if we were on the same team again

and offense wouldn’t be against each other

and our only defense would be ours, together?

The plays called again from the sideline

and we huddle-up, arms over shoulders.

We are in the back yard lines

set on scrimmage like boys with grass stains

and SpaghettiOs and hot dogs would

sit warm in our super bowls.

Ecclesiastes 4:12 reads

“By yourself you’re unprotected. With a friend you can face the worst. Can you round up a third? A three-stranded rope isn’t easily snapped.” The Message

 

 

Mercy Morning; Fresh Light

Caps of cumulus grab the first light

and float like golden vanilla scoops.

Blue grey fitted sheets crawl

beneath the infusion of pastels.

The sun brush strokes a new day.

 

When I close my eyes the leaves,

combed with cooler breezes,

mimic waves from Lake Michigan.

The blue noise settles my soul

and I receive this gift of Another.

 

*

 

“Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed,

because His compassions fail not.

They are new every morning;

Great is Your faithfulness.

‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul,

‘Therefore I hope in Him!’”

Lamentations 3:22-24 The New King James Bible