Tiny vibrations crowdthe roof’s peak,slide downand splash across new-leafed trees,midpoint of the half season. In the beholder’s eye,colour is rich yet,a wet thing whoselayers are exposed,shady green under excited yellowunder washed out, delicate blue. A human, passive witness andamateur scientist,imaginary note pad in hand,tries to understand this,perhaps as sheaves ofimpossible music,wondering,“Who authored bliss?” God justContinue reading “Piano Lesson”
Tag Archives: God
Conversations About God
Earlier,the birds had conversationson the rooftop edge adjacentto our window casement.My simple heart imagined them Christians,setting about their Sunday reflectionsnotcomplex nature’s gentle wings,whom,feathered in a colour of complacence,dusty brown,communicate in private terms. …then oneand twoand three flew down,resumed their search for worms. A day’s carefree dreams fly away,as my talking Christian birds did do,when splashedContinue reading “Conversations About God”
Act Three
You are still,almost part of the chair,before a drawn curtainand wondering, “Is there not an act three?”while those around are standing,offering applause,putting on coats,gathering purses,hats,scarves,excitedly chattering aboutwhat a great show it was. Over time, the theatre clearsof friends and neighbours,dear ones,lovers, dreams,but you remain,for what must be an eternity,pondering. Have you notunderstood the joke?or learnedContinue reading “Act Three”
Me, Pussycat, God
If I were the Pussycatand Hewereme, I wonder exactlyhow thatwouldbe. I might sit,contented,my own simple businessto mind and,suddenly,find my whole self lifted in air,to be cheek by jowland ear pressed to ear. I’d struggle,push, lean,and rathernot be there but I’d have nothing to fear. All powerful,the Pussycat’dhave no reason to be mean, I’d feel lovedandContinue reading “Me, Pussycat, God”
A Clockwork
Who sips,when droughtis done and cups are fullagain?Even childbirth lies forgottenatthe scent of summer’slilacdrifting in. Bury both lips deepand soon as you can.Ignore what dribblesdown the chin,it isn’t wasted. Sky, in metered time,revisits trembling blue.What spills from thisand sunlight’s offeringis tastedby earth anew.
Where Did It Come From,Why Is It Here,Where Will It Go
The great river is alluring chance,it’s old, graveled edgean over-one-shoulderseductive glance.I am teased to wanting for sunny days and bright sandthat some folk say, “lies further south, around a bend, where each may go one day.” Hushed rushing quickens the hour. I fear inertia’s awful powerto draw this weak swimmer, unready,from the sheltering, familiar eddys. Through western history,the same books boreContinue reading “Where Did It Come From,Why Is It Here,Where Will It Go”
Robert On The Air 