traveling on a bus
searching for You.
riding, and waiting..
and napping and hoping.
Are you?
waiting and hoping,
looking forward is so very important,
(be it through bus window or bay window)
as long as you remember to wag your tail/tale in the present.
i take off my water soaked sandals
and leave them by the door.
You come over and study them.
smelling the sweet springs,
and almost autumn air –
wondering where i have been and who i may be,
even so,
you can not know –
until you have walked a mile in my shoes.
highly unlikely –
who needs shoes to wander the world?
you silly humans…….even if i wore shoes,
even if i walked a mile –
it would mean no thing…
for we are each unique on our paths
besides,
i am needed at here at home.
You are the one who spent the day in the rain,
a day in the woods, walking a stream to a spring.
i am the one who can stay nice and dry and enjoy the story.
on the bench
was a cat,
not like the cheshire one –
but one that
looked like a faded lynx with the tail of a tiger –
and pale green eyes of peridots…
no jealousy,
only power.
he disappeared as soon as he knew he was seen,
as if that could erase my memory –
i still have His smile on my face.
the ceremony was beginning.
the day was ending.
one Sabbath was ending.
a Holy day was beginning.
and a little dog
slept through it all.
the cream puffs lie scattered on the plate.
abandoned.
i lie under the table.
i can smell their sweet loneliness.
longing and desire overcome me,
and you try and tempt me with a milkbone?
desire is not like that!
Truth cannot be bribed.
but even cream puffs are no match for You.
and that seems to be true.
but it is never the same as the old tale.
even if it looks normal.
driving across the bridge,
(did i mention it is an interstate?)
he noticed
a small frog,
(and he was driving 65 miles per hour)
clinging to bottom of the driver’s side window.
outside.
he did what any one would do…
he gently rolled down the window and cupped his hand over the frog.
protecting him the whole ride across.
Love is like that.
someday, the frog will repay the favor.
You remember, like in the story about the mouse,
and the lion.
Truth.
i pick him up
he smells like loam and earth
he smells like truth
and he pours himself over my arms
like a puddle of black ink.
He pours Himself over my arms
and into my heart.
‘what kind of dog is that?’
small.
‘No, really what kind if dog that?’
tiny.
‘NO, i mean what like KIND of dog is THAT?
oh! i didn’t understand you,
my apologies,
She is a sweet dog.
What Kind of a person are you?
Hope comes in pairs,
two prayers,
one prayer.
we planted two pear trees,
still to young to fruit –
and yet
in the break in the rain,
there She stands,
sparkling for all to see.
the promise of harvest…
you see a dragonfly?
why not an angel?
Ministry of Animals 