For the Birds

Last night my dreams began to hide mystery.
I cried out in fright.  The previous day
I worked so hard to remove the mundane
from each step I took and to look,
to look seriously, with a playfulness
I had not known in years, at the ordinary
things surrounding my life.

To have the world of my imaginings
threatened by the way things are
frightens me.  The birds gathering
on snow-covered limbs continue
to sing into the cold no matter 
how the light may play across the ground.
Perhaps life is for the birds.

But Jesus answered John, “Let it be so now.” – John 3:15

God of the Present Moment,
God of the Past,
God of Possibility for the Future,
pour out your Now upon our heads;
anoint us into What Is;
not because What Is Now is better 
than any Other way of being Alive
but because Now is all we have
while the great suck of Time
continues on its Journey
daring to separate Us
from the Here and Now.
Amen.

Prayers at Vespers

Daughters continue to surprise,
their childhood showing us
how to be bigger and better adults.
One adding up 35 + 35, arriving 
at 70 milligrams of salt in two sodas,
the other standing and squinting
into a strong afternoon wind
gladly shouting, "Hallelujah!"
Sometimes I think, and maybe
I should take this thought
more seriously today,
paying attention to numbers
on a soda can and facing the wind
feed the human spirit more 
than the finest prayers at vespers.

Coming to Prayer

There is no need to bring a pencil to prayer;
no need for an eraser to put thoughts in reverse.
Let unvoiced compliments be heartily received
for what they may mean not for what they say.
Leave theological commentary to be spoken later
by the ones who think they know what is going on.
Give thanks for neighborly hands coming together
to pick up debris after a sweeping, violent storm.
Once the safety of all is ensured, only then, turn
to face disrupters and their willful wantonness.
Practicing kindness may create another minute.
Remember, Christ, with arms outstretched, was 
crucified between the good thief and the bad thief.

Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt. – Matthew 2:14

God of the Diaspora,
circulating and scattering the peoples
around a center that never seems to hold
long enough for them to come together;
send us on our way when home falls apart
or when the water rises from the deep
or when the sky rains hailstones and fire
or when the brutes sharpen their swords
or when tongues of flame burn us with words
that threaten to undo us where we are.
Amen.

The Best Art

            - inspired by Robert Henri

The best art the world has ever had
began with doodles on a page.

Or a dance in the street underneath
spraying water from a fire hydrant.

Or perhaps from the throat of a chickadee
perched on a swaying twig.

Or by those who live fully and completely
while enjoying the play of the moment.

Practice for the Divine

Acting sometimes brings a person closer to God;
like moving from sitting in the pews to the pulpit.
Once there, ritual can be spread over doctrine
to cover all sorts of craziness and sinful natures.
Look how the one presiding waves their arms
as their voice weaves magic around the altar.
Such eloquence speaks rarely, seeking
to live fully as the bread breaks in our hands.
Always practice what the divine looks like
so as to be prepared for when the show begins.