22 July 2014


The earth groans with inexorable pain:
Rape and murder, robbery and warfare,
Typhoons, tornadoes, and earthquakes,
Abandoned children and miscarried ones.

Our hunger remains despite our gluttony:
Hunger for justice and peace,
For joy and comfort
In a senseless, brutal world.

How long will this continue under the sun?
How long until our tears are dried,
And the clouds are rolled back as a scroll,
And Adam's old paycheck runs out at last?

05 June 2014

Grace in Summer Rain

Sometimes heaven's blessing comes with lightning:
Welcome water drenching thirsty earth,
Slow, fat raindrops plopping into puddles,
Deafening cracks of thunder rolling over.

Howling storms that rip homes into shreds
Lavish life's essence upon a sun-parched world.
I think this must be how God's grace unfolds:
Commingled with reminders of just-avoided wrath.

25 April 2014

Short, Sweet, Perfect.

Here's a fantastic anecdote, told artfully by one of my favorite story-tellers, Jonathan Rogers.

The Rabbit Room — Ball:

I smiled and cried, but you might not.

08 April 2014

My Block

This prose poem was inspired by NPR's Morning Edition

My childhood block was a grid of gravel roads running through a newborn subdivision just outside of town. Red-tailed hawks and wide-eyed deer watched us bike down those dusty roads on long, hot summer afternoons. Crashes were painful. Decades later, I still smell the rusty tang of blood-soaked dust, feel the bite of antiseptic on raw palms, and taste the tart, sweet comfort of cold lemonade.

04 April 2014

Winter's Last Chance

An icy north wind,
Blowing with desperation:
Winter's dying breath.