Riesling Reflections

Against all odds (and evens, too) I am the place I am;
It wasn’t me who got me here–
No dream, no scheme, no plan.

There was a word when I was young and then a space between
For growing things that grow mature,
All fresh and lush and green.

A seedling still, but evergreen, I raise my branches high:
A sign of openness, a sign
To You, my true supply.

I am a transplant far from home but rooted in the vine,
Thinking thoughts of glory shown
When water turned to wine.

How I Want My Love Life

Fill my heart until it overflows
And don’t turn off the tap.
Let love flood through my veins and in my bones,
Completing every gap.

Just leave it running, never turn it off
And let me be a geyser
Gushing love with every sentence from my mouth–
A giver, not a miser.

This truth is true into eternity:
I only love because He first loved me.


You threw your arms around
me like you loved me,
Like you’re really glad you found
me and you hugged me
Like you knighted or you crowned
me with the sun because
You thought I couldn’t see
through your smokescreen.

Imprefect, or however it’s spelled

A flaw is a law with an F,
A rule with the reason bereft,
Where logic has failed
And chaos prevailed:
An audiobook for the deaf.

The Journey

Trace the path from dot to dot until you’ve made a line
Each dot is like a moment
Each segment a length of time
Without all the connectors to hold them all in place
The dots are bits of coal dust
Floating out in space
And without the dots the segments are just a pile of sticks
As lonely as the Maytag man
With nothing there to fix
But dots and segments hand in hand lead to my abode
And past it–on to future homes, further down the road.

Forever Friendship

Commitment has its price and it ain’t cheap–
How much she left to follow in the way:
Riches, family, friends.
Is this just madness, unhinged logic leap,
Submission to a whim or dream astray
That drifts along and wends
Its way unknown, a droplet in the deep?
No!  I say no!  The difference–night and day
And nothing blends.

Called by her Father, she runs to his embrace
And takes the gifts he’s given just to her,
Now joins the story in medias res:
Changchun, China set to feel her stir–
Here love and joy and kindness she displays,
Embodies spirit’s fruit in all her ways.

Honor’s Opposite

Eyes averted, diverted gaze
Cheeks churn red and ruddy heat
Head hangs low
Hands hang limp
Heart beats nervous beat


Photo by Andrew Fosker


June humidity–
Water, water everywhere:
Crystals in the air

Swimming on two legs

Photo by Eliana Anthony

Not ready for solid food, and spilling the milk

I’m crying over spilled milk
And told, “It’s useless.  Stop.”
But I will weep for all who bilk
The harvest from the crop.

So if you ask me why I weep,
I’m crying o’er spilled milk–
The basic truths so rich and deep,
Rare treasures like fine silk,

That matter not to present ilk
Who think Jesus a dud.
I’m crying over spilled milk:
For us Christ spilled His blood.

Jigcame, Jigsaw, Jigconquered

A puzzle piece died under there
That old armchair
Covering dust
Rabbits and crust

Crumbs from some pumpernickel bread
I checked; it’s dead
But lacking loam
A burial home

A puzzle with one empty spot
The perfect plot
Gave it a spin
Still don’t fit in.


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