VESPERS

He sits on the porch and ponders life
watching wooded trees at the horizon
set ablaze by the late afternoon sun.
Words spring forth from the songs of birds
chanting their Vespers prayer.
He fingers the narrow pattern
of woodgrain on his rocker,
stacked like lines of a familiar poem
waiting to be spoken aloud
in his own nightly prayer.
Meanwhile, his hunting dog lays
at his feet, witness to this testimony.

SHORT WALK/LONG JOURNEY

Paper thin, pale skin begins
to crepe like dry moth wings -
unable to carry any longer
the heavy loads
of heartbeat and breathe.

Clouded eyes blink and struggle
to focus for a minute -
a sharp exhale rushes out
and meets the shaky rise
from a large armchair.

Feet shuffle across a bare
wooden floor, making their way
along a familiar path
to lay this broken body down
and rest in a soft pine needle nest.

Home.
At last.

REQUIEM FOR A SUNFLOWER

Was May so long ago?
Do you remember when I broke the surface
of the spring ground with the dull blade
of last year's hoe?
Tossing a single seed into a shallow hole
then brushing dirt, gently at first,
into contact with its shell.
Pressing dirt firmly down
and then that first drink of water
you poured to quench a sleeping thirst.
One sleepy morning,
sooner than we could imagine
a hint of green poking its head
in search of friendly skies.
Face, always brightly turning toward the light,
growing faster than its back could bear,
a sturdy stake, a crutch, its companion.
In full glory, the days became too heavy
and the haloed head sank to its chest.
Some think these are the saddest times
but I treasure sunflower's wisdom
as I, too, bow to my creator
in these, my final days.

inspired by photograph and poetry prompt from Christine Valters Paintner at http://abbeyofthearts.com

THE CLOISTER WALKS (apologies to Kathleen Norris)

Saturday, September 22nd - 10:30am

Woods on the grounds of Saint Gregory's Monastery

Three Rivers, Michigan

Monday, September 24th - 8:00am

3rd Floor, 600 West Chicago Avenue

Chicago, Illinois

MONASTERY

I'm off to Saint Gregory's monastery in Three Rivers, Michigan for a few days of retreat and renewal...
Pray for me.

Rich

MORNING

Jesus woke this morning,

got out of bed,

grabbed a cup of coffee

and sat down to read the New York Times.

Jesus wept.

RUMPLED SHEETS

The landscape of dreams begins
with the genius of cool,
crisp sheets freshly laundered,
tightly drawn across the bed.
Leading us to comfort
imposing order on our night
despite the chaos of the day.
Sending us to travel
where our feet cannot take us,
but moving us along the path
to where our hearts can dance
and make a rumpled mess of cool,
crisp sheets, freshly laundered
tightly drawn across the bed…
no more.

Inspiration and photograph provided by

Christine Valters Paintner at abbeyof thearts.com