End of November

Wow! I must have needed a break. It wasn’t planned. Perhaps life moments from my time away from blogging will filter their way here in coming weeks, or months, even. I missed the uplifting exchange with you and look forward to its return.

In the meantime, here is a small, rough poem that I wrote years ago to mark the turning that this night is.

To a Titmouse at the Feeder

How does your black eye perceive this place
we live? Are you awed
by the detail of bark enflamed with lichen?

I hold my breath, simply forgetting to breathe
while I watch your feet manipulate
my tree, my yard, this planet.
Right now I would believe anything you tell me.

Safflower seeds wait, like a hopper
of patient maggots, to be cracked
against a limb, and you oblige, hammering
with the chisel of your face.

Earthshadow comes to tame the colors of day —
can you tell? Can you taste the adrenaline
of December’s midnight arival
like I can?

Published in: on November 30, 2008 at 9:35 pm  Comments (3)  

November Church Newsletter Entry

I’m singing James Taylor while making toast, anticipating the autumn week ahead. We’re moving down October’s last straightaway, and there are no yellow flags. Time does seem to accelerate, doesn’t it? November is here, and December will seem just as immediate when we’re flung, glittering and gift-wrapped, into the middle of it. As suddenly as a toaster popping, we’ll be into another calendar. It can scare us, even when we know it’s about to happen.

Still, this week, though it promises to be gone soon, is where we reside. Staring at the toaster doesn’t affect the toaster. Whether it ejects the slices early or late, there are colors in the windows of trees that are turning. And there is air made fresher by the shy bend of earth’s harvest season. God occupies that chill as much as he does the weight of heavy blankets. Notice, and the speed of all else becomes irrelevant. God IS.

Because of that, each moment of living is brimmingly full. And we are the cup, breakfast at the lips of the God who has filled us. How much better it is when we stop sloshing around, spilling God’s delight when he’s trying to taste. We each bring our gifts to this table, with heads anointed and cups overflowing…your fire, my rain…God’s festival of beauty that sparkles in the eyes of his children.

Published in: on November 3, 2008 at 10:22 pm  Comments (3)