Sunday, May 31, 2009

Three Poem Drafts

Fickle Water

Fickle water
cupped by firm Rock
forms deep pools;

I flow here,
I flow there.
You alone uphold me,
make me still.

In the Dark and Dead of Night

In the dark and dead of night
I feel your glory still inside;
through the sorrow and the pain
I see your rainbow in the rain;
and as the wind moves through the leaves
your Holy Spirit moves through me:
through the dark and through the storm
you lead us onward to our home.


How lovely is a library:
books like berries on a bush,
bursting in the mind, many-flavored,
full of light and life, sweet knowledge
reaching toward the vital sun,
ripening from the flower
in gift and propagation!

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