March-morning sitting,
Aging man deliberates –
Do-less state of mind
spiritual
בְּרִיאָה *
Topping the protective dune, we froze, speechless in wonder to see the birth of the day laid out before us.
*Creation
Going Home
Sunrise stroll ending
Fresh brewed coffee waiting –
Good-morning being
Manifestus
I will never know the breadth of God,
Nor the height, nor the depth.
Yet, I pause in awe of dawn’s majesty
Some early morning walks by the sea.
Salt Run Adventure Dreaming
On the first star-filled morning of each second month, I hasten to the Lighthouse Pier where I take photos in the rosy-dawn light of sailboats at anchor on Salt Run. There, at each click of my camera’s shutter, I find myself inserted into misty images of daring voyages to distant and mystical lands.
Sunday Hymn
I am grateful for this downpour
That jabbers in the birdbath
And clangs inside the drainpipe
Samba agogô outside my door.
I am grateful for this thunder crashing,
Booming one-two-three-four fast,
And this heaven-cracking lightning,
Dance-floor-strobe-light flashing.
I am grateful for this wife of mine
Ensconced in the couch facing me
Engrossed in fifteen across,
Sanguinary or sanguinity.
I am grateful for this old dog
Who curled up at my feet,
Seeking safety there from the tempest
Then slipping back to sleep.
I am grateful for these Sunday funnies,
My Kindle’s New York Times,
And iced coffee I sip occasionally
On this peacefully stormy Sabbath of mine.
Psalm
Gently comes my God some days
Gently wakens me
Gentle breath upon my soul
Instills divine serenity
Fisherman
He pauses each morning to watch the sun rise
And let loose his thoughts to take hold where they might.
He senses some great thing beyond his reach
Whose name he can never quite bring to the light.
Vilano Images 