Six White Towers

Six white towers at a glance,
I caught and joined their sprightly dance.
Windy towers, six saw I,
set against the azure sky.

Upon the meadow, upon the hill,
above the lilies latent still.
With blossoms covered, blooming all,
stand the old and towers tall.

Wooden, watching, twice the three,
who’s arms stretched over Calvary.
Sunlit filled with chatter wild,
of petals perched and birds beguiled.

Sparrows weaving to and fro,
make their home a happy bough.
April’s hands and laughing loom,
spin for each a windowed womb.

These upward reaching six fine masts,
snow-white sails and shadows cast.
Jocund set, fond and free,
wind-caught passing merrily.

Passing, fading, sweet delight,
each fair tower from my sight.
In days and places, distant all,
I joyful each shall oft recall.

Rain

Stampeding listless, lonely crowds afoot
and falling; each a spoken word forgot.
These words in time, a sentence form, and put
together poems of death, and life begot.

Before our ears, these sonnets turn to song,
unheard upon the fields' a-frost with dew.
In Winter's silent morn and Summer long,
the rain remembers, when and how- and who.

O blessed rain, what joy? What loss? What old
and sorrow's seen? Our Father's birth, the star
the child; Mary's weeping, myrrh and gold-
O ageless rain, the nails, His hands, His Scars.

I long to glimpse, the sights the crowd recall's-
As wise the curtain, cold and crying falls.

Distant Deeps or Skies (II)

Imagine what a steady gaze unbent
will wake; A fleeting glimpse a fire left!

My honest heart this latent day laments,
each passing blessed bloom I stood bereft
of nature's wistful laugh and wondrous might.

Yet hope remains; Each Bright and Morning Star,
each Dayspring dressed and dawning, crestless night
and dying dusk, brings beauty from afar.

I weep, as sad the waking sorrowed weep-
But yet I too rejoice! For every day,
I doleful listless walked where lilies leap,
O' unawares through summer streams, astray-
Ten thousand moment's such, in scarlet skies
and distant deeps, await my wondering eyes!

The Shepherd and the Lamb

O' sorrowed Shepherd, tender mild Lamb,
What Truth, what Life, what love born of your word!
You King of Kings, you Mighty God of Abraham-
How so gentle, yet of Glory all our Lord?

You breathed him life, you loosed Orion's chains;
Filled the seas, the beasts and birds set wild.
When man was lost, you whom mighty reigns,
Became a child, meek, as Mary wept beguiled.

Across your brow, a crown they laughing wove,
To mock and pierce your precious skin-
Drawing forth your blood, O' Dove,
Lo'! Those very drops could cleanse their sin.

How, O' Sharon's blooming Rose,
My Strength and Song, my humble Shield-
Could you take to our intended tomb?
My most Beloved, it's Grace you wistful wield!

You rose, a Bright and Morning Star,
You rose, a Temple torn, three days rebuilt.
In loving Grace, for me you bare the scars;
This gratis Grace, upon the bough you spilt.

For Grace you Shepherd, for Grace you are a Lamb;
Praise your Love, O' Seed of Abraham!