Raymond A Foss Poems

not servants, no longer slaves
our prayer, before the sermon
changing the words,
...

A wide open world, the ether,
the web, the connectedness
the world so small,
...

He reminded us
of a truth too oft' forgotten
faith can afford, offers
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Expectantly, asking where she was
She was eight, at that point, in that year
my long-dead ancestor
...

He, the Christ, Jesus, the very same,
ascended into Heaven
Glorious Day!
...

The howling winds, buffeting the boat,
our lives, at their mercy, the winds of doubt,
of strife, of fear, our masters
...

Rich vibrant, living color
Dying on the branch
In glory as I drive by
...

She was running this morning
early Sunday morning
while we drove by on the way to church
...

The sky was so clear and blue today
it took my attention away
from the walk to the bank
where I needed to go
...

Not nearly the whole
but the head of the snake
cut off, dead
...