Psalm 38
a morning song
A normal day, at last
Blue sky and green leaves
The air is cool
Ablutions and then coffee
I sit here
Bird-song is low
Maybe birds are taking
Time to let this day
Herald itself
I sit here
With a cool current on
My back and liquid warmth
Close by: you give me
This peace, dear Lord
And my heart
Only begins, with what
Capacity it has,
To thank you
Psalm 32
a song when we are done
Lord, I’ve lost it all
Age and youth
Health and wealth
Whatever I possessed
Is no longer in my
Hands
I wagered life
And sometimes won
Gained much, gave it away
Squandered some
As we are likely to do
Here I am, and there
You are
We draw closer all the
Time
With all that
I no longer have
Do you still love me,
Lord?
The mystics’ reply is
Yes, always
Yes from the Lord
Psalm 31
a song, a request
Lord, your love rises above
All; let me, with your choosing,
Rise with you
Lift me without pain that
I might see the borderless
World below, source of your
Love in that we were made
Out of your will
Better than the dawn
Is waking to new life with
All things seeming new—so let
Me rise with you
Better than all other pleasures
And pursuits, please let
Me rise with you
Psalm 27
a birthdate song
My day once a month,
Nine times three or
Thrice three multiplied
Such numeric niceties:
How much do they
Matter?
I make special one day
In my own way, taking
The number to own
Eccentrically
My little arrangement,
My small deal, to
Negotiate in the world
A little something
Shadowed that is mine
Small possessions, Lord,
Do you mind?
I’m guessing not
We all need to remake
Certain days
Psalm 25
a song of after-celebration
It’s not Sunday, no
Official day of rest
But unofficially we
At home are done with
Formal celebration
Unusually fine food,
Goods in boxes wrapped
Just-so, paper, sticky
Tape, silk ribbons—all
Now vestiges
All the tries at sweeping
Up glitter and confetti,
Finished for a time
(Glitter on a surface
Somewhere, somewhen,
A sparkling moment of
Quiet surprise to come)
Cups are filled with
Plain coffee now
The dogs and other
Pets are tired, next
To us and at peace
We enjoy a holiday
Without the holiday
Happy and less-sated,
Gazing at our decorations
Also now at rest
Sipping our hot morning
Drinks (or cool), looking
Out glass panels upon a
Sun-lit, dampened yard
Lord, please pardon, if this
Is for us the better
Holiday after-day
Psalm 18
about the divine participle
(Note Advent and Lent have
Participle meanings)
Lord, you are action, you
Are acting
The active spirit in the
Cosmos and inside ourselves
As a participle or a gerund
(Noun disguised as verb), you
Are meaning in all moving
Within beauty, space, and time
All is sounding, finding
Depth; all
Is soaring, reaching
Height, as you are passing
Over earth and sky and star
And under earth and in
The core
Our mortal lives
In waiting
You are saving
Saving grace
Within our lives
Helping us
In our divining
Lord
Psalm 17
a difficult song about mourning
Lord, how do we mourn
in a free land? How do
we allow atrocity and
still have the freedom
to choose? We do not
cry in empty space: but
our crying would be worse
in a revenge-wrought iron
land, where security
would be the only aim
and no one would have
open air to breathe
or drop tears for the
dead and for the living.
We must choose to
choose. Not to allow
evil or to destroy
democracy. Mourning
and breathing while we
arm, yes, and await
evil’s annihilate implosion.
For now we choose, in
a free place, to bear
the weight of death—in
nations wounded and in
the raw-split parts
of the human heart.
Psalm 16
a song of (USA) Thanksgiving (Day)
The Canadians had their day already.
I wonder if that’s because they’re
more easily, readily thankful.
In the USA, there’s so much to
be thankful for. I grew up in
Pittsburgh, and I like returning
there. Pittsburghers tend to
speak their minds, and their
minds are good. (Their driving’s
better, too.)
I have family. The five of us with
spouses, children of the new
generation, and pets (old, new). We
are scattered, which is sad, though
in our ways we keep in touch.
Friends I have, a small circle. And
I have made it smaller. Not the
happier of moves. But the friends
I have I cherish. They are good
for me, so good. They circle out
in nearness, which is the sense of
those we know and how and when.
I live alone and often feel the
peace of that. (I first typed pace
for peace, and I enjoy that too.)
I sleep badly, which means I have
hours of the day to be awake
and doing such as this. Would
someone else put up with that?
Hannah, my cat of nineteen
years. She is gone now, and
eighteen years were pretty good.
Then she faded fast. Not bad,
all in all. She was the queen and
I her knave. She ruled in blessed
benevolence, scolding me for what
is apt within the catly-noble
mind (which means daily
reprimand for not mind-reading
every whim). Still good, good-humored
company. Now a loss, though better
she go first. She awaits me on the other
side, ready to scold me what else I
missed in mortal time.
Mostly. I have you. Lord, I
know you love me anyway and
always. You love me in darkness
and in light. I am perpetually
astounded. And, yes,
thankful for this, all this, the
plenty that you give.
Thank you, Lord—Love, me
clcouch123 
Recent Comments