Instrument

Standard

Make me your
hammer.

I’ll pound
the stubborn nails down
til all boards become one.

Let me be a fierce nail,
and I’ll pierce your living flesh,
number all your bones.

My rough hand will smooth
away sin’s sharp edge
and bring low life’s
knot of corruption.

With gleaming blade
will I open a wound
pulsing joyfully in your side

to anoint with living blood
the guilty hands
of soldiers.

So use me, O builder,
and build your house
of many rooms.

(7/12/2012)

The Feast of St. Francis

Standard

from “Canticle of the Sun,” by St. Francis of Assisi: “Be praised, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air, and clouds and storms, and all the weather, through which you give your creatures sustenance.”

Bird-song rises
in clear, liquid waves

as golden leaves arc
twisting
to the ground.

Heavy gold
must fall.

October heat
gives way
to winter rain

yet inevitably life flows
like the breeze
rising from the broad sea
to the high Sierra;

grey clouds rise
and heavy snow falls.

All the living waters
give praise.

(10/4/2013)

Morning

Standard

when the sky is still black
and stars glitter
like there’s no
tomorrow,
the overblown moon
luxuriant
above seaborne fog…

this is the time
for faith
when birds,
startled by dawn’s
first spark,
raise sharp beaks
and sing
the first song of
morning.

(9/22/2012)

Above Berkeley (for Connie)

Standard

Past stone houses
Along the dangerous road
We raced, top down
Past the homes of the rich
Laughing
We flew into the night
To the top

And when we stopped
The March wind still filled my hair
And lifted my breath
High above the bright city
(its streets were constellations
Carelessly glittering
Diamonds
Cast into black waters)

But walking past dark bulldozers
Beyond the battered, red, warning sign
Our laughter suddenly fell
Startled by the silver presence
Above the trees.

We climbed to the peak
As a halo encircled the full moon

Silenced at last
We heard an almost-human cry.

Nearly invisible, we saw them,
The plaintive, grazing deer.