(Bordered to the south by fields of green maize)
The dawn is still.
No trembling leaf
Betrays the trace
Of passing breeze.
Each blade of maize
In the great field
Before the house
Awaits the sun.
Fill my heart
Fill my heart, 0 Lord, with joy!
Let me sing your praises still!
Calm the doubtings of my mind,
Reinforce my failing will.
Every moment of my day
In your service let me do
What your love inspires in me
To create the world anew.
January 1988
Our Sort of Poetry
Poetry in books is fine
But I seek poetry in wine.
We’ll pull a cork to make it flow,
Deep in the glass the verses grow.
Let’s drink a toast to yours and mine,
Three cheers for poetry and wine!
April 1995
I have a homing instinct for the stars 
You must be logged in to post a comment.