Sunset by the Bay

Sunset by Tillamook Bay

I was thinking that thinking ain’t so great of a thought
When most of your thoughts are in vanity sought
And with burdens and worries and anxieties fraught
Leaving your nerves all a’frayed and tranquility shot.

I recall once before of having been taught
that some truths are learned best when they’re caught
And a truth once experienced is the firmest one wrought
So why not
Instead of thoughts about sunsets, let the sunset set thoughts.

Second Spring

It’s so hard to believe in the good sometimes. Not because I know that it isn’t out there, that I think it isn’t out there, but because I am aware of being swallowed up by emotion. By sadness. By empathy. By emptiness. Is it a sin to be so tenuous in one’s heart?

Beyond the wall of emotion, the clouds of my own consternation, the clouds of my own perplexity, I can see the blue sky, the neverending sphere of God’s mercy. I know that it lays beyond myself. What I need to know is that he sends shafts of that sky to my heart through his Spirit. There is hope.

Do other men feel the chaos, the whelming flood of responsibility and expectation, or am I simply someone without the capacity to handle it in the way that they would? Do they feel the slowness, the doldrums of a heart without hope, without a pursuit?

Damn the TV sets, the evening spent in sloth, the entropic rhythm of suburbia. Let me rather drink life to the lees. But I am not the rebel, the hero, the maverick. I’m a sheep, a weak and lowly one. I need a leader, a shepherd, a warrior to cut a path through the thorns and lead me out of complacent meadows and into the wilderness, the darkness, the endless.



When is a fox not a fox?
When it’s little and playful and chews on your socks.
When it disappears behind the sunflower stalks.
When it paws at the door to go out for walks.
When she curls up at your toes, no longer a fox.