Archive | April 2015

Easter Forsythia


They tiptoe, dance, and spin

bright sun across my tired yard,

still dressed in her old tattered

coat of winter’s shadowed cold.

Wee flowerets sing to me their

yellow song of rising life;

shout golden hallelujahs,

he is risen; he is risen indeed;

trumpet bold the tidings,

shake the air, pierce through my

fears; spill out their earthy psalm of

wonder, jubilation at the mystery of

life beyond the winter’s ice, of life

beyond the stone cold mask

of every sullen death.

My Easter Breakfast Rose


So quiet you sit on my breakfast table,

mystery unfolding in your

tender petals shining stardust in the

silence of this Easter rising morn.

Christ is risen; you, too, are rising, inner

secrets densely wrapped and bursting

energy inscrutable, profoundly beautiful;

I sip your gentle pink assuredness of

life’s ongoing stirrings and arisings;

taste the fragrance of the secrets hidden

in the layers of your folds, whispering

the mystery of life to come, when you, and I,

and every blossom I have ever known, unfold to

shine beyond all time at God’s high breakfast board.