Sample poems (these will change periodically--check back from time to time!)

No worry over finding food—
They leave it here and there
And watch to guarantee each one
Takes no more than their share.
We have an island where we climb
The ropes and shake the trees
With keepers noting every move
In their analyses.
Too hot or cold, we go inside
And watch the people pass—
Some stop and puff their cheeks and press
Their fingers at the glass.
There’s little that we want for here—
We’re safely reconciled
As captives free to pass the days
Dreaming of the wild.

This shrinking pond will have to do.
It’s wet—at least for now,
And big enough for one—or two—
Overheating cow.
But if the herd has heard the word
About our small retreat
There soon will be—for a tiny bird—
No room to dip its feet.

I’ve got a photograph that shows
A father sharing what he knows
Of depth of field and shadow—light
And rule of thirds to left or right
And how the gifts of God appear
In cosmos far and flower near
And in the minutes—one by one—
Spent between a father—son.

Were I offered either or,
I’d yield a vault of gold
Or summers on a sea swept shore
Or stars a millionfold.
I’d wave the rights to any throne
And toss away the key
To any fortress—strong of stone—
If it were granted me.
No riches numbered more than sands,
Nor power over men:
Rather, let me touch her hands
Or hear her voice again.

Maybe someday long from now—
Fair skin, hair grey and wrinkled brow—
Your step will stop and gaze will fix
As sunset embers intermix
In wind-swept brushstrokes set aglow
That take you back years, years ago
To someday, somewhere you and I
Had stood to watch the burning sky
Blaze out across the distance—broad—
And talked of boys and dance and God.

Somehow our wires have gotten crossed—
Our most important lessons lost.
What love for God? Or neighbor? Self.
And all at such an awful cost.
With no foundation, what can stand?
Yet build and build and build on sand.
Then comes the rain and flood and fall
And we cry—stubborn— ‘what command?’
We punish prayer, flout God, praise sin—
And wonder why a man walks in
And bang bang bang bang bang bang bang
Then puts the gun up to his chin.