I Wept at a Flower Blooming

To really think about a sunset, the Prophet wept for an evening.
I weep, too, when I think about the pure and silent lives of plants and creatures...
Nature is something we watch on a screen like a spectator sport--
but it is right outside our doors!

I think about the ducks hatching their eggs, quietly and without ceremony...
Whether detected or not by the human eye, this life happens;
this grand miracle unfolds.
And so has it been since the beginning of God's wondrous creation.
Is this what God intended?  For us not to notice the delicate
unfurling of a lily?

We demand attention at every turn--
posting photos online of everything.
But the unassuming rabbit goes about his magnificent day unnoticed...

Every tree-- every fish and fern-- has a story to divulge.
Quick-- listen!

Reflecting on the miracle that is bushes birthing berries,
or trees making homes for birds...
I want to weep.

It is not a rare thing, nature.
It is more real than all our hand-held screens
and workday trouble.
It endures.

Quietly, quietly, quietly
life abundant, flowering life
occurs just outside our shutters
and parking lots.

Quick-- look!
And listen!
Be a humble friend to all that is natural and good,
all that is not sterilized and paved.
Be a part of the unfolding,
the miracle that is real
life.

Sacrilege

I call it pure sacrilege
to cross out calendar days
as though each of them was not given
like some big, blank check.
Why write "void" on our lives?

Sustenance

Your banquet lays before me,
I simply cannot devour it all in one sitting.

I gather all the musty parts of you,
and kiss them tenfold
in reverence.

As though waiting on my doorstep--
the card reads from Mother Nature,
ripe for the picking and
bountiful,
warmed by the sun of hot breath and
smoldering eyes.

We are silent--
Why disrupt the gift of the night?
Let's keep it holy
and bless this sacred feast.