Today, space between yesterday
and tomorrow, this nowness
may bloom, blossom, or blow away.
...
Dense fog shrouds the ocean's beach
To make a private world for us.
We walk on sand at water's reach
And leave the public world to fuss.
...
A gift of pieces has always been mine,
Errands to run, along brooks and through pines,
Tasks in fragments to take and refine,
Fruits to gather from deserts and vines.
...
Mercy In The Morning
Soul, neglect to wish for past expected joys,
Fail to capture your imagination, thus.
Real joys are stored for favor, when all earth's noise
Shall cease, to reveal goodness, now feared as loss.