Last Supper

Last Supper

Today would be his last supper

If she would have known

Perhaps she would have made his favorite meal

Tomorrow and the next few days

Others will bring her suppers

But next week she will make supper for one

Wondering when it will be her last


Today would be his last supper

Just a sandwich and some soup

Not steak and potatoes

Tomorrow and the next few days

Others will bring her suppers

But next week she will make supper with her sorrow

Wondering how long it will last


Today would be his last supper

Paper plates and potato chips

Not the nice dishes

Tomorrow, the day after, and then the next

Others will bring her sympathy suppers

But next week she will dine with regret

Scrubbing the pots and pans unable to forget


Today would be his last supper

A crumpled paper napkin

The final curtain call

Tomorrow and every day after

Others can have them all

But next week she will have her fill of emptiness

And choking down loneliness by the glass


Today, today would be his last…


The Earth Breathes a Sigh

The Earth Breathes a Sigh

The earth breathes a sigh of relief

Drinking in the cool of night

Far removed from the scorch of the sun

Shall we too linger in the night?

Drinking from its bounty



Each deep breath is like the first breath of life

To see with new eyes an ancient mystery

The gentle breeze crisp to the skin

Bare feet trod on dew fallen grass

Darkened silhouettes of leafless trees

Exposed and unashamed before the pale moon.



The hoot of a distant owl

Darkness falls heavy and thick, nestling me in its cover

While also allowing me to be free

You are not judging my actions or appearance

Instead bringing a comforting presence

Like an old forgotten friend

Now suddenly before me.

Memory Lane

Memory Lane


I sit gazing at pictures.

Pictures of my life

Like my first steps.

Or perhaps my first love.

I think to myself, those were the good ole days.

These pictures progress on over my mind.

I close the book.

I think of how far I’ve come…


I realize now what I once had,

What ever happened to those good ole days?

When life was simple and enjoyable?

The world could benefit from a trip down memory lane.


A TBT-from the early 90s


Sweet Day

Sweet Day

Oh, sweet day, when will you come? Come that I may once again dance in laughter and in love. When can I hear my heart pound again with purpose? Until that day, my heart and dancing feet merely mark the time.

Elusive love I have danced your sweet tune before, and drank of you cup for nourishment. Escape me not in the future, yet return again in bar and rhyme. Move again my feet, stir my soul to reality. Allow me to know again the joy of the moment. The hours it will consume and the years I will invest.

Go beyond, and connect me to your eternal presence, oh love. Eternal in relation to God and others, the essence of love is not individualistic, rather discovered in communion with God and in relation to others. Return again in communion to you and community with others.

Let my life take shape in that reality, and draw me again to my identity. Allow me not to forget that all-encompassing presence. Provide me the eyes to see, the heart to feel, the soul to long, and the feet to dance. Life demands as much, all else is mere existence.



Time squats in the blue-spurred grass
Marking that place just as every other
Invented to remember the past
Help in planning the future
Marking the present, that is becoming past,
Pushing constantly to the future
Time can only squat in the blue-spurred grass
Marking that place
The past has shape in memory
The future in dreams
The present is the struggle

Age of Eden

Age Of Eden

There was a time past when days were new.  The morning was embraced with excitement and anticipation.  Barefoot trampling the fresh grass, soft, rich, and green.  Eyes were wide open looking for each new adventure, seeking, and searching.  The smell of the warm air in my nostrils.  Filling my lungs.  The fruits of others labors were within my grasp.  I was flying where there were no limitations.  I had no experience to tell me otherwise.  Feet and legs were churning and running, faster and faster.  Running, jumping, playing, and thoughts were noble and all dreams were possible.  This was time and place when innocence and perfection thrived.  We were lost in moments that seemed to go on for eternities.  Our young, strong bodies would never get old.  The swift stream carried nourishment to the fruits of the fields.  Today there is a hazy glow after a heavy rain on this late spring afternoon.  My mind is filled with remembrances simpler more innocent days gone by, my eyes are fresh with a new vision for life, and my soul with new purpose for the days ahead.

Long Shadows

Long Shadows

Long shadows come dancing up to my door in early Autumn.  It seems to be a new posture as they and the sun explore their ever-changing dance.  Each shaped by the identity of the other; intertwined beauty, melancholy about the time ahead.  There would be an absence of shadow without the sun.  However, it is also true that which casts the shadows often changes.  These long shadows scarcely resemble that for which they are cast, leaving us the observer in a place of speculation or perhaps happy curiosity.

As these long shadows creep up to my door both in the morn and eve it is the first glimpses of the longer, cooler, darker days ahead.  Where the days grow short and the sun rests for winter we often push harder through nature’s Sabbath trying as best to think that we too are separate from this dance.  As if somehow we are not connected to the glory and splendor of each day and moment.  Each wonderfully cherished sip we are allowed to taste shows us all the more that we are not apart from but rather connected to these shadows and days.

Following these ever-changing silhouettes through the rhythms of life.  Season after season, wave after wave.  Be present to the life around you.  Blessings from each gracious day mark out not memories so much but rather experience or feeling.  A feeling of wholeness, life, beauty, majesty, fleeting, meaning, or a greater understanding, not of this world but perhaps our place in it.  The grandeur of it all and the speck that I am.  There is something far greater than I.

At evening time it shall be light.  Zechariah 14:7