once in a strawberry moon

a strawberry moon
in a midsommar sky
watching the world
as it slowly speeds by

o'er sand dunes in Cairo
down quaint Danish streets
it's always exciting
the people one meets

from old friends to new ones
i pass through the crowd
and find now the whispers
are not quite as loud

the places are many
my poor feet have been
but many more wait
by my wide eyes unseen

yet under this moon
while the wide world i roam
my heart can't seem to find
that one place they call home

mine eyes have seen

here's hope for sale
in a bucket of lost dreams
no expiration date
costs but a song
worth your lifeblood
and it never gets old or worn out

here's hope for sale
when your way's lost again
the night grows darker
hope shines bright as day
batteries included no wires
and they never burn out

here's hope for sale
though eyes dim and feet falter
its strength renews with the dawn
when all ends and you give your last breath
cash in on your purchase
it's guaranteed gold

down to the dregs

i sip
the aroma
filling my senses
i'm walking
down sleepy
sunbaked streets
white houses
beside a lazy
blue sea
sidewalk cafes
hola guapa
and siestas
i'm wandering
down trails
dappled with sunlight
up hills above
medieval towns
trams and vines
busy crowded streets
i'm laughing
at a table
with friends
talking of things
here and far away
sipping together
as lives are joined
i close my eyes
i sip again
so many memories
one sweet drink

along the way

when the skies clear i'll see
where i'm going
what i'll be
perhaps along the way i'll find
something different
than in my mind
i've tread enough varied trails
to know His will
is what prevails
sometimes the end i'm longing for
isn't what He
has in store
so i'm learning once again to be still
open my eyes
let Him fill
i've cried out a million times for my heart
He moves again
grace to impart
when my eyes dry and i look up
the lives around
fill my cup
my heart to Him is an open book
i'll bow again
let Him look
when the skies clear i'll see
who it is
i will be

that spot (heb 12)

when i come to the end of myself i hope to find a
place like this where peace is reigning and i can
rest safe in the knowledge that i am not the end but
He who promised will discipline burn out the dross
and someday bring forth the gold reminding me that
i chose this yes i chose i the gypsy He knew He
knows that deep down i long for the place of peace
the place of rest where He alone matters so as the
song goes here i am again in that spot take me back
tonight i am the prodigal wandering in my heart as
if i could find a way to run from the pain run from
the very fire that purifies me when He calls me back
oh so patiently and i am down on my knees crying
for the only touch that restores though i am not there
yet i hope i find that place the spot where i am in
His perfect peace and i know that this world has no
hold on me and i give up holding out and hold up
my hands and the end of my story is in glory...

burying the dead

the field looks like an old blonde man's head
broken brown grasses mixed with unrelenting frost
except where the blood colors it crimson
sometimes the jobs we must do
suck our soul's joys
like burying the dead
someone must do it
no matter how unpleasant
i don't suppose as he walks that field of heartache
his heart finds no joy as another lifeless face
a face that used to laugh and love
stares up at him and he thinks of loss
how do i walk through the valley
the valley of the shadow of death
creative roles lying lifeless in the dust
loneliness my dear friend
while i put shovel to hard ground
how to lay down it being about me at all
serve another's legacy
there may come a day when the burial is done
when my poor attitude is finally laid to rest
and He makes a way where there seems none
so today i cry again and shoulder my burden
the view ahead is hoary
Thank God i do not walk alone

on windy plains

"storm's coming," he said
to the dark western sky
and saw her head nod
from the corner of his eye
"might be a big one,
though i've seen them all.
one never can tell
on the eve of each fall."
he thought how her hair
danced in the wind
he thought of its feel
and quietly grinned.
"remember that one time,"
he mused out aloud,
"when we heard the thunder
and saw that one cloud?
how the funnel formed fast
right down to the ground
and you looked at me
with nothing around?
we cowered in that ditch
arms clasped round and tight
until the storm cleared,
my what a fright!"
he paused for a moment
then finally turned
to the red rocking chair
as the setting sun burned.
half-expecting a speech
she never lacked words
but the chair just rocked on
all he heard were the birds.
"storm's coming," he whispered
as a tears stained his cheek
"you're not here to hold
and i'm growing weak."