passing through

beauty has deep roots
and durable clothes on.
there is something earthy
and eternal in her walk
though we can't know
where she'll go next.
where she might crop up -
in the most unfavorable places,
most likely.
her journey is arduous,
grievous and far,
but the ground beneath her steps
pools with joy, every inch.

graduate school

my mind is a rake
gathering up
the brightly colored
straying leaves
of other people's
thoughts.

the field is
an ample flame
reaching for the sky.
its yellow branches of
fire-light lift and lilt
against the blue
leaning of night.
gophers turn somersaults
laughing to cry:
come near sweet showers!
cleanse our world
again.

It is time to be converted,
once again.
Sell all.
Every last cent
poured out for the poor.
Keep not proud thoughts.
Be clothed in coarse garments. Your
downed head with hair undone,
weep for death's undoing
everywhere.
Then stand
before the cold winds of silence
with your naked open hands.
It is to be human. It is the only way
to be born again.
Receive
the astonishing richness of God.

anniversary

Flowers flicker light against the sapphire sea,
the sun plays the fiddle and the grass
yawns, stretching its thousand arms.

There is so much to say. So much

that floats

on the soft winds of easy silence.
But only a whisper is heard -
a butterfly brushes past:

"Rest here, rest here awhile, children.
For moments hold and gather
the real. Then comes time."