This is the way I see it going down

December starlight--frost and snow and clear black sky--
ruthless magic steals away the logic and reason;
beguiles innocently
broken down thought covered over in plastic empirical science

a wrapped mystery
an intoxicating, outlandish and ancient idea;
no, a story, no a person
yes to all of those

strangely grateful and foolish
not to have believed
but to have waited so long in a cold, deep deception

kairos

My melancholy has burst out into full color
full out in strong autumn sun and dances
in a crazy blue sky to see a white birch in a muddy field
followed along by a white fence guarding a milk-filled cow.

Withdrawing into winter's heart; residual joy gleams the veins of leaves wrought amber in my eye--purplish and red: painfully bright in a green lawn next sharing space with a gravel road, brown and wet and gray

These pieces fitted
make changes, once reviewed,
congruous--dripping with purpose and hope

Deaf

White paper morning--crispy shavings of a backlit moon
I find myself praying in sign language

Newly deaf; newly mute—other senses not yet adjusted to compensate

I am boorish—spitting crude assertions from published works onto awkward, stumbling prayer; muddling as though my vesture is sepulcher

—I’m glad to go down, to burrow deep allowing waters to close over;
not sure when the moon will change again and allow me up.

Oh sweet, dark, change--husky sheath and cosseted
Dry and cool, I do the work of life.

I am hidden, in my own mind, at least.
Protected by the confidence that things change—things always change

Subtle

On Wednesday You winked at the evening sky
and made it blush a tangerine candy floss
just about the time I was looking over Your latest blessing.

I stood across the street from the house with an open yard
that shares it's border with a green belt tree line.
This is just the beginning of Your plans or maybe this is the middle--my heartbeats are deep, stretched out with praise feeding the great gray swirls You tied
like a bow on the gift of this day and the rest of my life.

And Rockabye Sweet Baby James

Today we heard the Banez baby was born--
what sweet grief, his father with You, his mother with us.

As we pray for her, waiting in frantic surrender--
the pressure of Your Grace; the light I hold in my hand--falls over my own broken head.
With no more resolve to stand or step, folded; bent low,
my shoulders shake, my throat rubs out a low cry
and swoons with a rhythm; I hear You, I hear You; I hear You.

My words are stilted, but Your oil, Your presence; Your joy and glory;
Your Body marvels at sweet Baby James.

Shoal Lake

Laura and I stumble down well after dark to sit
on the dock at Shoal Lake.
As the quiet settles around us, we listen to the frogs call the late evening moon
over the trees.

I bring a bag of Ranier cherries and plunk the pits into the black water.
Laura holds a blanket and a sheet.
Together we bring a good night to a close
and memories to the surface.
It was a hard year for me, and I say this more than once.
With so much in mind: Philippines, Thailand, India, Korea, Coaching and our Monday nights.

We talk of men in general and some in specific.
Just as we begin to admit our mutual frustration,
a loon, long and desperate howls out from his hidden nest on the dark shore line.

Laura loves that sound
like I love to see the city lights come on in the evening.

I tell a dumb joke and we break down in fatigued giggles
just for the beauty of laughing uncontrollably again.

You are my ttong-sang and I am your uhnni.
You are golden; you teach me in so many ways.
Your friendship, like a sound or a light reminds me that God is personal.

House of Prayer

Muted voices
not allowed to
cry out; hushed
up to honor
order--we repent.

Field

It is the first week of July
and the June bugs know their
numbered days are moving inevitably toward oblivion

I spread my sarong on Bermuda
wet with early evening dew
and because I do they swarm
their floundering amber bodies around
me

Wing chased wind the air sits
a few feet from a tall sodium
safety light.

With the summer insects I feel
a closing approach from the West
and then from the East so that a single
light is the focus of the whole world.

Afternoon thoughts

Tonight as the sky formed and shifted
around thunder heads crossing the river 20
miles away a bit west and north of here,

the trees formed the green of my thoughts,
and I found a blue, lovely and deep like
the words I search for even now.

The spotted paint horses hang low
and smooth in my mind staged
in the pale pasture with trees behind.

I am lost. I want to be in the dark brown
sheen of the animals and the quiet of their eating.

The stallion is taller than the rest, and I feel tired
to think of his strength.

Then I finally see it; a rainbow hangs over the southeast.
I can see where both ends met the horizon
and now the wind
and now the slow drops to wash, refresh,
and make new my ragged hope.

mango, pomegranate, guava, star

The grief and joy of Presence
is an exotic fruit I have just
discovered in my hand as
I sit weeping in the Thodapuza
courtyard; all my brightly
colored sisters sing just yards
away through a concrete
wall, over a river of shoes.

It is the song in my mouth
as I surface in the lagoon
near Naweni Koro
Praise God from whom all blessings flow...

It is the unprecedented
snowstorm howling gray
and brown over the
weh guken hahkyo in Pyongtaek;
I shoot a video; breathless giggles.

It is the sensation of the rise
and fall in Phuket's waves
and later in my dreams.

It is the sari dripping down
from my head and playing
around my feet; I hold a
little brown hand and hope.

It is this moment: my friends
have gathered around; a soft brown
dog sleeps under the table;
the Word is open and speaks all of us
into the Presence of God.