Dance Flower, Dance!

The young flower laughs in the sun,
blossoming for all to see.
Playfully its petals fly, dancing
as the wind plays a beckoning tune.

The young flower sighs in the clouds,
blossoming, but no one sees.
Its petal falls slowly to the ground, for
the wind plays no song; it can’t dance around.

The young flower cries in the rain,
blossoming, its petals droop for all to see.
Petal cling tightly to shield the naked flower,
as wind blows harshly, to make the flower dance.

The young flower shivers in the snow,
It’s blossoms have all been blown away.
Naked in the wind it tries to sway,
As the winds song tauntingly plays.

Shattered Reflections

When I was very little there was a red jay that used to come to our back porch every day, all summer long.  We had a glass sliding door that lead out onto the porch and a wood-railing that wrapped around the porch.  Every morning, like clock-work, that bird would perch upon the wood-railing, look at the glass, and then with all his might he would spread his wings and fly head-first into the glass door.  He would bounce off the door, then go back, sit on the railing, and do it all over again.  Over and over again we would hear the ping, ping, ping of his little beak hitting the glass. He would fly at that glass door from sun-up to sun-down every day until it was time for him to fly South, but we knew he would be back the next summer.  For 5 years we saw that bird, he chipped our glass door a few times.  For a while we could not understand what he was doing then we figured it out. That bird saw his reflection in the glass and he was trying to fly through the glass and get to himself.  A few years ago the red bird stopped coming to our house.  I don’t know what happened to him, maybe he died, maybe he finally broke through the glass.  I guess well never know, but I’ll never forget the bird who almost broke his neck trying to shatter the reflection he saw of himself.

For Fatigued Flowers

Do you think the flower ever gets tired of growing?
Does it think to itself on a day when the suns not glowing,
“here I am growing; but where are the people going?”
The flower has one purpose only: to glorify God.
As the people walk past and it’s trampled upon
the flower does not get angry, nor wish they were gone.

Do you think the flower ever gets tired of blooming?
Does it think while stretching in the sun’s light,
“my petals are opened, but you have only inward sight?”
The flower never screams, “Don’t forget about me!”
Even forgotten flowers still blossom with grace,
though they wither from the coldness of the human race.

Do you think the flower ever gets tired of hoping?
Does it think as it sees bouquets walking by,
“Yes today I want picked, so tomorrow I’ll die?”
A withered, forgotten flower is still a happy flower,
because it remembers its one day in the sun’s light-shower,
It remembers the sun’s merciful warmth and does not cower.

So flowers never tire of growing, blooming, and hoping.
As they join together to fill the earth’s meadow,
these flowers bloom unafraid of the trees dark shadow.
Each flower is a beautiful sight, when receiving God’s light,
it never feels useless, nor forgets its purpose,
for it remembers to glorify God in the act of existence.


 

Nameless Nobility

The feathered bird waltzes in the trees.
Dancing from branch to branch,
he proclaims his territory.
A spotlight shines upon the king,
and a glorious breeze blows.

The breeze turns harsh and cold,
with it comes flying pellets of water.
Still the king dances,
wet though he may be.
He dances until he falls from the tree.

The morning spotlight searches,
but no tree king is found.
A child, instead walks on the ground.
Crouching down he in remorse,
her warm rain sprinkles the fallen king.

Guess I’ll Go Eat Worms

The other day a red jay flew into my house,
It came to tell a little lie about a worm.
The little lie did not stay small, it grew tall.

You see he tried to eat this worm, before she was ready.
When she refused he lied and said she tried to eat him,
And the other worms, they believed the false red jay.

The gossip flew, it was the wind beneath his wings.
The worm never said a word, and she hurt when he lied.
She wondered who was the bird, and who was the worm.

The Happiest Hermit

The brightest star in the universe,
has no companion with which to traverse.
Daily he smiles upon the earth.
Against no one he measures his worth.

The sun rises without fail each dawn.
With no help he works all day long.
He never wonders when he’ll find love.
There is no romance he dreams of.

Joyously he gleams, alone in the sky,
never letting his hope filled light die.
The brightest star in the universe,
has no companion with which to traverse.