Two in the morning—

my day begins with coffee

and a chat with God.

Maundy Thursday plea:

From disease and pestilence,

God, deliver us.

How many autumns

will God pour into my cup

after this one’s drained?

Matins

To hear the wild goose,

even the priest at matins

stops mumbling God’s name.

Planting

the children of God

planting seeds of peace, not war—

a fruitful garden

from the mirror God

peering back at Abraham

a familiar face

God crouches each night

in a corner of my room,

then springs up to dance.

heaped in the temple—

ten thousand fervent prayers

God didn’t answer

Even the swallow

will find a safe nesting place

in the house of God.