Sky Painter

This morning, He

Dipped His brush in


And painted on fire.

Elements veiled

Are jewels;

Opal and pearl.

One and

Every shade.

Living sky.


Like blueberries running

Through cake batter.

Blush that is simply

Red in priestly linen.

Fire behind,

Soft to touch.

An Original.


Darkness Among The Dogwood


Mourning dove on a front porch,
Says with her eyes,
Her implacable, light-ringed eyes,

Yes, I made a mess
Building this nest.
The pangs were upon me, and

My nest-mess is the herald
Of Easter,
Of passion and pain.
In a corner of the cornice,
I hide my life,
Against the roaring of the foe,
Who stalks like a blight,
A darkness among dogwood,
A hatred complete.

This piercing is a deep breath
Inhaled for the victory shout.

I am the covering;
I will die for life.