Cloudscapes

I am a cloud

lying exhausted on the mountain’s shoulders

heavy with tears

I am a cloud

leaving behind a faint trail of snow

an imprint of my embrace

I am a cloud

my misty fingers clinging to the treetops

as I drift along

longing for their steadfast patience

I am a cloud

floating about

moved by wind and water

a constant living painting

unfolding across the sky

By various miracles, including a generous friend who gave me her spot, and a generous husband who agreed to work from home while watching our 7 kids, I’ve been able to go on a much desired silent retreat this weekend. It is amazing to have this restful time to myself to ponder such things as the quiet movement of clouds across the sky, in between naps and beautiful meditations in the chapel. Praying for you all as I recharge my batteries and fill up my bucket with beauty.

Prairie Walk

When I’m back home I’ll think of you

walking under the immense dome of the sky

which curves around like giant arms

until it touches the distant edges of the prairie.

You awed by the paradox

of God’s ever-watchful otherliness

and the incarnational intimacy of the earth

supporting your feet–

you tiny amidst the soaring and the solid,

utterly surrounded by God.

Ears of the Forest 

These tiny white tendrils

perched like innocent ears atop a mossy log

listening to the secrets of the forest…

What stories could they tell us, if they had mouths?

For they have heard the early morning trilling of birds

when everything else was silent

save for dew drops dripping from tall trees

bearded with curly mosses.


They have listened to the lapping of water

at the lake’s edge,

the liquid murmurs flowing over submerged logs 

soaked with sunken memories

–mine, too–

ones I dare not extract from their watery repose

lest I tumble in and get absorbed by their somnolence. 


These little glowing ears…

they could tell of green and growing things,

of red and rotting things,

and of the perfect patience of trees

which live and die and even in death

keep giving life. 

Rain and Nature

Here is a rainy afternoon poem by my oldest daughter, who is 9:

Rain and Nature
The rain drops like manna in Moses’ time.

It’s a gift sent from God, my Lord divine.

The rain gives the flowers a new beginning.

They burst open in colour,

like the song birds are singing.

A dewdrop will do for a beautiful crown,

on top of a flower that grows in the ground.

Eternal Echo

Look up into the sky

with its whispy clouds

caught in still life ballet

Let the vast expanse of its azure stage

enter your soul through your eyes

Don’t you find

an inexpressible longing within

an echo of the eternal?

Can you tell me

with conviction

that you weren’t meant for Heaven?

If you do, my brother, my sister

I won’t believe you,

because I see mirrored in your eyes

pieces of my own heart.