Microcosmos

Sometimes of an evening,

I look around and wonder.

I see little worlds flying past,

Their inhabitants busy focused

On their own non-orb

Such colors glinting in the sun!

Reds, greens, blues, blacks, and whites

Glitter and they whiz by.

A brief pause, and I look over to see a woman

Alone in her world and talking, but nobody’s there;

Then the stream starts back up, and her world disappears in the flow.

My world is nice and comfortable, if only a little lonely;

I wonder where everyone is going, lost in their own worlds,

Unnoticing, unthinking, simply hurrying along.

Lost in my own thoughts,

I pull into my driveway and step onto terra firma.

Lights on Broad River

Alone, I trudge to my car and venture into
The wide and lonely
City.
I drive and drive, and feel the Loneliness.
Have you ever felt the Loneliness?
It’s a quiet sort of feeling that makes you squirm
Because you can’t move as your heart is pressed
On every side.
While sipping my coffee, I see a slivery crescent of moon.
The moon is so red I can hardly see it against
The black canvas it hangs on.
She looks lonely, and suddenly I don’t feel
Alone anymore.
Strange, but it gives me comfort to see light
Shining on the
Water.

White Violets

While walking through woods on a spring afternoon,
I saw shining beneath my feet,
Little white stars in a green sky.

As I bent to look closer, I discovered
That they were more like sheep than stars,
Grazing in their little flock, quietly eating earth.

I wondered what they think about themselves.
Are they proud not to be like the other
Dull purple ones – “stupid creatures!”
Or are they quietly confident
Knowing that not even Solomon could dress so fine!

Frog Hymn

A cool breeze blows across my face,
As I peek out at the rain.
The earth smells fresh and the night
Comes alive as the rain drops and distils abundantly.
Drip, drip, drip patters the rain,
And I stop and listen to the small frogs praising God.

I wonder how out of touch my race has become,
That we fail to praise God when it rains.
Maybe it’s because the rain ruins our plans,
Or maybe it’s because we don’t like to get wet.
But probably it’s because our hearts have become too blind,
Too blind to see what a lesser race always sees.

The rain drips down, and still
I stop and listen to the small frogs praising God.

Sky Flower

With my back to the sunset, I face the looming dark,
And watch a thunderhead bloom.
Pink, magenta, and grey petals surge upwards,
Mingled with subtle streaks of gold.
Like the growing sky-flower before me,
My emotions swirl inside me,
Stunned by such ominous beauty,
I feel small.

Summer Moon

Black against the dark night sky
The needles of the pine form a bower.
Hot and heavy hangs the air, like a thick blanket;
All is still and lazy
While crickets sing the moon to sleep.

December Moon

The moon is framed by a silver shroud,
Glistening, cold and remote – the Queen of the Night.
I shiver as there moves a wisp of cloud,
Winter trees with grey fingers grasping high.