Sunday, 26 April 2015

For Nepal








We don't often
get to church these days.

Sundays ( seem to me)

to stand in silent rows

each one
waiting

to turn up again

as if the last one
had just left.

I miss the prayers and hymns
so my heart soars across
the field beside our home
to where I hear the Church bells ring.

I imagine the raised faces
to the pulpit
and the heads bowed in humble prayer

the sun slanting through
the stain glass
that makes pretty patterns of God
on the floor.

I imagine the hearts looking forward
to the coming kingdom
the old ones gathering to talk
after the service,
then home
to the ritual
laying of the table.

Today I will pray for the people of Nepal.
And wonder if they did too.

On this the
first
and
loveliest
day
of
the
week


Monday, 20 April 2015

The glittering sea









We took a drive to the mountains

and I lost myself

in those distant slopes

the rocks,

full of memories

and hundreds of travellers

who  walked that way

before us.

A duck pond

with a little boy

and his sailing boat

which I loved ~

it's little white sail

reminding  me

of how quickly time goes by

as not so long ago,

it seems ~

that little boy was mine.

Then onward

to the glittering  sea

the sparkling ink of the waves

writing a timeless love story

on the waiting sand.

These days of spring

where  mountains walk on water

and

water

ripples

down

every

silent

hill

to

the

sea






















Sunday, 12 April 2015

When morning comes








I whisper of lands

that in my heart ~

are like returning birds

they come again,

so easily.

The morning

tells me

to shake the duvet off

and press my feet

to the waiting floor.

Downstairs
I listen to Karl Jenkins on
the radio

marvelling at such artistry

then
drink
espresso

while the rain makes
her home on the windows.

Soon, again,
night will come
chasing morning away
as she brings
her pointed
shining stars




Saturday, 4 April 2015

The Name High over all








On and on we  drove

through the quiet April air

daffodils forming a bright

yellow guard of honour for us

as we went.

Blessed candles

at warm windows

on the way home,

the car full of toy Easter chicks
and mugs with printed chickens on them


The sky was cold
with a veil thrown over it

and I thought
of Jesus
lying still
in His tomb
waiting,
waiting,
to burst forth ~
bringing new life to us all.

We smiled at the green day
the newness of life

the church bells ringing
in the little church by the sea

And quietly , quietly

I whispered

thank you

to

The

Name

High

over

all


Friday, 27 March 2015

In the afternoon light







The birds sing their morning song

to the traffic

as I drive to work,

watching  the huddled masses

standing in the bus shelters

earphones in,

drowning out God's iTunes.

I wonder why.

These days are sprinkled

with the pink light of spring.

I can't get enough of music,

endless hours of Chopin~

Hans Zimmer, Beethoven

I could listen forever.

Music pours over me as I wipe a strand

of hair away from my face

when caring for an elderly patient~

I look at them

and wonder what songs of love

made their  heart skip a beat?

What a tender disease,

love is.

I think on these days flying by,

how I've felt like a violin string

pulled tight,

taut to the point of breaking.

But then..

The beauty returns

it comes in many shapes and forms

music

writing

knitting

Cherry blossom beginning to bloom,

it will fall like heavenly angel debris

from the singing sky.

And

I,

will

stop

to

watch

to listen










Saturday, 14 March 2015

Somewhere a star shines for me










Memories.

Like an orchestra

playing on repeat in my head.

The Californian sunsets.

Carmel and it's coffee houses.

The pier at Santa Monica.

Golden Gate Bridge at San Francisco .

Coffee  while watching a million stars at Yosemite National Park.

Driving the Big Sur while my

darling slept gently at my side.

Hearing the ocean break hundreds of feet

beneath me and praying to The Lord Jesus

that he would keep us safe until

we got home.

My son once said

* Mom, I've no idea how you drove that , all alone.*

Nor do I.

These memories, however.

Always, always with me.

Knowing that somewhere,

a

star

shines

for

me


Saturday, 7 March 2015

Come summer come







Come

summer

come


sing

your

song

in

me


The lonely trees

with silent boughs

and memories

of birds

long vanished.


To take away the sharp shards of life
this week

I drank at the river of language
it's elegance renewing me
and giving life,

once more.

So

let's love

what we love

until

summer

comes