The Protest of the Pines

The Pines whisper protest at the chaffing of the wind.

And in that same voice,

The Wind whispers back of the Pines' same sin.

And from this gentle conflict,

The soft music of the mountain springs again    ~LB

In the Glorious Stillness of Prayer

 

In the glorious stillness of your up-close presence,

            Lord, I can see!
            It’s a view beyond my own limitations
            to the possibilities we dream together.
           
            Lord, I can hear!
            It’s the voice of your encouragement
            talking over the voice of my weariness.
 
            Lord, I can touch!
            I feel the tactile reality of our daily friendship
            and the depth of its warmth and strength.
 
            Lord, I can smell!
            It’s the surrounding breath of your goodness
            and it clearly gives you away.
 
            Lord, I can taste!
            It’s the rich sweetness of your graceful truth
            as it permeates my ready heart.
 
In the glorious stillness of your up-close presence,
            Lord, it seems, even as I rest before you,
            I rise!
                                                         ~LB

Spring's Newest Blue Bird

How must it seem to you, little guy,

The fresh new world through which you fly,

So bright with green, and blue, and white,

So filled with the sun’s bright spring light?

Oh the view of your innocent eyes,

The view I knew, before I cried.  
So, all the more I joy in you,

God’s sweet reminder of my own coming new!

                                                            ~LB

September Rains

Life is touched by exquisite moments
   When sadness is made to flee
They're tucked away for sacred times
   When Grace demands a spree

These are the moments which come with the light
   The sweet laughter which follows the night
These are the moments which trail the drought
   When once again  - all becomes right

    

                                                                                   ~LB

Comforting Ranks

I went marching in the ranks of men

And my Dad was up ahead
And just a little further up
Was my Grandpa's hoary head

So every day we moved along
Forward in our ranks
Sharing life, joy and strife
We gloried in our threesome strength

But then the old man left our ranks
No longer up ahead
So Dad moved up to take his place
And I moved up to Dad's

And then one day as we marched along
Dad was also gone
And I moved up to be in front
I felt so much alone

Until I looked behind my rank
And I made a wondrous find
It was my own son - one row back
And his son just behind

                                            ~LB

Memorial Day

He’s alone and bleeding – and so far away.

    As Death sits beside to impatiently wait

While his thoughts fly home to hug Mom and Dad 

    And account to the question, “If only I had…”

His burning tears sting a path down his face

     And drop to the ground to mark this place.

A place where devotion met sorrow and fear,

     The place where a soldier shed his last tear. 

And now we pause to help soften this wrong,

     And belove all the soldiers who've died alone.

                                                  ~ LB

A Sunset Nearly Done

  (Upon noticing the haunting beauty of a deep winter sunset over the forest)

Limbed sentinels stand cold against the glow

    As orange surrenders to the clear black flow
And the Night Crest comes with light blessing for all
    And speaks softly of "rest now" - and the coming wake-up call.

                                                                         ~LB

God's End

Lord I cannot see the end of you. 

 Your bounds are much too far. 

Your bigger than my Universe, 

 Farther than... Oh! my stars! 

 So - while I'm sure I'll never see, 

 Still, I've seen a better part 

For in Christ I've pierced the veil 

 And looked upon your heart. 

 And I surmise that could I see 

 The end of all you are, 

It would be but mere reflection 

 Of this familiar part.

                                       ~LB

Cozy

When gray slides over, and snow piles high,
And the fire lends cozy to the room,
And hearts, deep warmed by blanket and mug,
Keep time with the crackling tune;

Then we remember that thing we forgot:
The sweet charm of Winter's long gloom.

                                                             ~ LB

Seasons Of Languish, Mornings Of Dance

There are those seasons when life is harsh,
And refuses to grant us success,
Instead it withholds, and obstructs, and says no,
Even though we plead with our best.

But too, are the glorious gifting days
When answers flow like a stream,
When solutions long sought are finally caught,
And at last - We can dance the dream!

                                                                ~LB