Holy Fire

Seeking respite from the world  

I pause to still my soul.

The spirit cannot listen

When flesh is in control.

In prayer, I see a vision

Red embers burning low.

Praise lifts up an offering

Adds fuel for love to grow.

Open space for heaven’s breath

The sparks burst into flame.

Joy renewed by faith in Christ 

And I am not the same.

An Uninvited Specimen

Poetry inspired by a visit to Zoo Miami.

I am a green iguana

Roaming at the zoo

Unattended feeding troughs

Are my dream come true.

When elephants are busy

I climb up a tree

Drop into their habitat

To munch on all I see.

I watch where I am going

Quick to get-a-way

When keepers try to catch me

I live another day.

If temperatures are chilly

Cover up your head

Watch out for falling reptiles

That look like they are dead.

I traveled here from Cuba

Onboard a cargo ship

I’ve found food and freedom

Miami’s really hip!

Tourists stare at animals

Confined within a space

But they look twice when they see me

Marching place to place.

Unfailing Hope

Like most people I’ve had my share of ups and downs. Last year a fractured metatarsal in my left foot impaired my ability to walk for several months. During my recovery I spent a lot of time reading and discovered a volume of Emily Dickinson Collected Poems published by Fall River Press. Since poetry invites interpretation by the reader, I want to share my thoughts about one of my favorites, “Hope is a Thing with Feathers.” Emily Dickinson penned this work in 1861.

Hope is a thing with feathers

That perches in the soul

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea,

Yet never in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

This poem encouraged me to never lose hope that I would someday walk again without pain. Today I’ve recovered from my injury, and Emily Dickinson’s words still speak to my spirit. As an optimist, I connect with the theme of hope. But her words also challenge me to think.

I wonder why she chose a little bird as a metaphor for hope. Birds take flight when they sense danger. They migrate to avoid harsh weather. Birds seem unsettled and fragile in comparison with other animals. But the bird in the poem is not flying. Instead it’s perched in a person’s soul singing a tune which never ends. Could its song be one of praise to its creator?

The bird’s song of hope warms those who live in cold and lonely places. Although the little bird is fragile, its tune can keep people alive during the fiercest storm. Since I live in Florida, I think of hurricane survivors who rebuild their community after a storm. They hear the song of hope which renders a power of resiliency not easy to understand.

The Oxford Language Dictionary defines hope as a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen. The Bible goes beyond the dictionary and describes hope as what people look for God to do. Hope goes beyond a wish, to a confident expectation in God’s ability to meet a need.

Dickinson describes the little bird as asking for nothing, not even a crumb. It doesn’t cost a penny to be optimistic. Hope holds much value to people who rely on its power because it lifts their spirits. We’ve all heard stories of people who have survived unsurmountable circumstances because they did not give up. Their stories encourages us, no matter what obstacles we’re facing.

Let’s come back to the little bird in the poem. Could the bird be a dove? The Old Testament relates that after the Flood, Noah sent a dove from the ark to find land. The dove returned with an olive branch in its beak. Then Noah knew the water had receded from the earth. (Genesis 8:10-12 NIV) Can you imagine the hopefulness Noah must have felt?

The dove appears again in the New Testament. All four gospels communicate that the Holy Spirit took the form of a dove and was seen at Jesus’ baptism. Here the dove symbolizes the holiness with which Jesus was endowed. His sacrificial death for our sins brought reconciliation with God to everyone who believes.

When Jesus sent his disciples into various towns he said, “Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves. Therefore be wise as serpents and harmless as doves.” (Matthew 10:16 NKJV) Like the feathered thing in Dickinson’s poem, doves are harmless creatures. When housed in a soul however, the dove emanates courageous hope.

Hope is a gift from God to those who seek HIm. Perhaps hope does make one demand. It asks us to trust in God. “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope, by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 15:13 NIV)

Poetry 101

Take yourself to a comfortable place

One without pain, loneliness, or suffering.

A quiet place

Far from the stress of living.

Center yourself

Between the future and the past

In a time called today.

Experience the gentleness of the moment

Nothing is owed,

No obligations or responsibilities.

You are riding on the crest of a wave

Carried by God’s will and no other.

In this space you discover

How to visualize.

Words fall onto the page like raindrops

One at a time

Until the deluge

All of a sudden—

the page is drenched,

and a poem is born.

Silence

Silence can mean many things

Appropriate in an elevator,

But deafening after a quarrel

Maybe we are fearful to speak

Or have nothing to say,

The truth is some thoughts

Are better left unsaid.

We avoid silence,

Yet travel miles to pursue it

God is a friend to silence*

Be still and listen.

We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is a friend of silence. —Mother Teresa

The Serious Cereus

Buzzards glide in the cloudless sky

Rock squirrels hurry on the ground

Shadowed by the prickly pear,

The Cereus makes no sound.

This lazy cactus leans upon

Support from kindly neighbors

Waiting for the perfect time

To begin its covert labors.

Once a year the sunset beckons—

And Cereus buds unfold

Their delicate white petals

With centers of soft gold.

A fragrance like vanilla

Spills forth from every core

Luring a local sphinx moth

To pollinate…before…

The first light of the morning

Forever shuts each flower

Without complaint or question,

They meet their final hour.

The secret of the Cereus

Revealed one moonlit night

Fulfill the Maker’s purpose

Inside the span of life.

Buzzards glide in the cloudless sky

Rock squirrels hurry on the ground

Life resumes in the desert heat

But the Cereus makes no sound.

Dear Reader,

“The Serious Cereus” is a revision of a poem which first appeared on my blog entitled “The Secret of the Cereus” in 2016. Check it out. I include much more information about this interesting cactus.

Quiet Time

Here I am Lord

ready to begin my day.

I confess you were not first in my routine,

never are.

First, the daily weigh-in,

before I consumed a bowl of cheerios with blueberries.

Then facebook

beckoned my attention.

I gave my friends the “likes” they deserved

before settling in my easy chair with my second cup of coffee.

After scanning a few Bible verses

and writing my requests in my “prayer journal,”

I thought I’d fulfilled my duty

and meandered outdoors for a walk.

Here at the pond

suddenly I see

in order to hear from you, I must listen.

Here I am Lord,

ready to begin our day.

Message from a Brook

Come closer, daughter

My bank has the perfect boulder waiting for you

You will find rest

When you let my endless burble speak to your busy mind

Breathe…

Lay your worries down

Give them to me

I will carry them to the depths of the sea.

I bring life to all I touch

From the towering silver maple to the tiny striped minnow

All are nourished by my abilities.

See the lush thicket?

Each fern knows me well

Rooted in my abundance,

Their lacy fronds

beam with contentment.

I am a channel of resources

An open frequency

Yet you seldom tune me in.

Come near, daughter, and sit awhile.

Dear Reader,

Hopefully my latest poem will inspire you to get outside and allow the natural world to speak to you. I want to do just that! Look for another post next week which celebrates National Poetry Month.

Exercise in OO

Sue jumped out of bed, she knew what to do.

She pulled on her jeans and shouted, “yahoo!”

“I’ve got the day off, so I’ll visit to the zoo.”

The gates had just opened, the visitors few.

“Hello,” Sue smiled to the grounds-keeping crew.

“You do a great job, this place looks brand new.”

Inside the birdhouse Sue’s interest grew.

High overhead her feathered friends flew.

A rainbow of colors, some red, and some blue.

Then a strange voice rose above every coo.

“Hello pretty lady, how do you do?”

Parting the foliage for a better view.

Perched on a limb sat a fat cock-a-too.

Dear Reader,

I had fun writing this poem. After finishing “Exercise in OO” I realized there are countless possibilities poets have at their disposal. Poetry can be serious or fun. I tapped into the idea from a resource: “5-Minute Daily Writing Prompts” by Tarn Wilson. Begin by listing all the words you can think of which contain the same vowel sound. (This is very easy if you have a rhyming dictionary.) Then you start putting the words into lines to create a poem.

By the way, April is National Poetry month. Look for another poem from me next week.

Gray Skies

over my head

a mysterious forecast hangs in the balance

uncommitted to rain or sun

plagued with a loss of vibrancy

dull, heavy, and fixed

beyond my reach.

Then I remember,

my captain orders the seasons

He quiets my spirit and takes me

where peace abounds…

among the barren and stunted blades.

Dear Readers, I am writing to you from the “Sunshine State,” only the sun seems to have disappeared. In these bleak January days, may you sense God’s love for you in spite of the weather. Remember, He is always in control.

Inspired by: “He speaks to the sun and it does not shine: he seals off the light of the stars.” Job 9:7 NIV