Consent

Seeds of beauty

Wait to germinate  in the fruit

Of consent.

Earth consents to the sun,

Dawn gladdens heavy hearts,

Water consents to the sky

Clouds silver shadow

The sea.

Shore consents,

Waves sculpt

Junipers and stone.

She consents,

A son is born

Who consents,

Saves all the world

Who will believe.

Such love, 

Falling of leaves

To Autumn's attending,

Eternal love,

Consenting.

Life's Rests

Life's Rests
By John Ruskin 1819-1900

There is no music in a rest, but there is the making of music in it. In our whole life-melody the music is broken off here and there by "rests," and we foolishly think we have come to the end of the tune. God sends a time of forced leisure, sickness, disappointed plans, frustrated efforts, and makes a sudden pause in the choral hymn of our lives, and we lament that our voices must be silent, and our part missing in the music which ever goes up to the ear of the Creator. 

How does the musician read the rest? See him beat the time with unvarying count, and catch up the next note true and steady, as if no breaking place had come between. 

Not without design does God write the music of our lives. But be it ours to learn the tune, and not be dismayed at the "rests." 

They are not to be slurred over nor to be omitted, nor to destroy the melody, nor to change the keynote. If we look up, God Himself will beat the time for us. With the eye on Him, we shall strike the next note full and clear. 

Beyond Me, This Empty Grave

So many of the people I love and admire
Pass lightly to and fro between dimensions,
Parting filmy curtains as if between rooms.

I seem a gardener for them,
Kneeling, kneading the stone,
Up to elbows in lime and sand,
Seeking a lost circuit
Mankind could use for a garden light
In setting sun,
In setting cement.

"Where have you put him?" they ask,
Meaning Jesus.

Where the Aurora Borealis Sings

What I see up North,
That cold winter country
Where men seldom go,
Everywhere an unsullied profusion,
The organization of God,
A wisdom whispered from one day
To the next,
From  wind on snow mantled peaks,
Every night learning it
From the night before,
Mountains nestled in it's purity,
Valley meadows for elk and caribou,
It's gentleness in  rivers
of salmon teeming silence
Between stars.

The Saint

You are a saint.
By this I mean you are
Fully realized,
There is a king in you
and a kingdom,
A Golgatha of broken dreams,
A Calvary of great love,
An empty tomb.

The Bride

There is a beautiful bride
Who is getting herself ready.
She is set aside and loyal
Kind and pure.
Her betrothed has sent her
many gifts.

She has not seen him,
Her lover,
But in visions and dreams,
She sees and hears him,
In stillness, songs of water
and wind, in paragraphs
From his letters,
And poems,

She sweetly believes
He is coming for her.

She practices patience,
Watches for signs,
Re-reads his promises,
And because he is faithful,
She will not be disappointed.

Cowichan Bay

At Cowichan Bay,
On a hot day,
Thankfully,              
I sit in the shade on an old wharf..

Two Jamaicans are playing thumb harps, singing.

 Leslie is sketching.

Some friends are having a picnic,

The potter nearby is busy in her
Little shop,

 Sun is beating down on the sailboats,
Weathered wood,
 Driftwood riff-raff and rope.

 People stroll among the waterfront galleries,
Conversations  in low voices,

Men, with the sounds of tools
Cutting and sanding wood,
Work on their boats.

Sea is more blue
Than the quiet sky.

Wings Of Light

Waiting in the garden
By reflecting pools of quiet grace
Below the  waterfall
Of endless mercy,
Among  fronds of ferns,
Waiting
For little orbs of light,
Some have seen,
Flitting flower to bush
In an electric puff
Of cool reflecting fire,
Branch to grassy glade
On such  small scale.
When they rest,
I admire their wings
And tiny human-like bodies.
They look at me
From the distance
of ten thousand years.
"Where do you live?"
I think,
"Where are you from,
what is your name
in the Bible?
Are you cautious of me
as I am of you?"
We are creatures of the same
glorious God of all Light.
We bear His signature.
Lord, of all your mysterious creation,
 let me worship no creature,
none but you.

Walking In The Sky

Walking around in the blue sky.
I've seen you and your friends,
Scarves and hats with tassels
Gowns and long coats
Streaming in the wind
Hair flying,
Strolling in the clear sky
Hand in hand,
Or on an arm
Leaning into the gusts.

Fast growing cancer diagnosed,
Walls closing in,
Stone upon stone
Colors intensely shine.
All this is new.
May I walk out with you in the sky?

The Supplicant

Businesses have come and gone
along the road from Skidigate to Tlell,
or fallen to gross disrepair and negligence,
but ocean tide still swells and receeds.

Along this coast highway,
sea wind blows and sun shines
as ever it has,
waves glinting or tumbling ashore.

The Haida Gwaii are still
radiant islands,
I am still called to pilgrimage,
 to attempt a memorial to the beautiful.

I raise my tent now,
in this moment,
a supplicant in your presence,
a mercy monger
in your mossy forest,
sitka spruce,
cedar and hemlock.