the quietness of autumn-gold beams hit the leaves
luminescent leaves of autumn
–
the full moon lingers near
orange in its slow, low rise
cream in its height
–
the chill hints that autumn is here
casting its shadows, telling its stories
stories of these old hills — where we are from
nothing new under the sun
–
draw close and stay warm
–
good things await…
The first frost lays down on the fall grass,
saying “hello!”…….. for it has been a while–
many moons have come and gone since they have shared company.
November’s full moon rises —
as the moonbeams emerge–
they hit the frosted grass.
As the moonbeams and frost meet,
the frost begins dancing like flickering diamonds.
The sounds of the forest are muted as the frost and moonbeams dance,
old friends together in rhythm again announcing that
winter is lingering near.
****************************************************************************
Beauty is everywhere, even in the night, even in the cold, even in the transition.
The seasons change, teaching us that even in the pain of change, we can dance.
A southern autumn finally makes its way into the hickory, maple, and oak forests,
we’ve been waiting. Longing for it.
Yet, it has been lingering — barely ready to descend – – – until now.
It brings a soft glow that feels like a warm blanket when you’re cold,
you know how it feels, and you need it.
It calls to us softly – – – slow down, slow down – – – winter is coming.
It holds us after a deep and wide year,
A year that has torn our hearts open,
until we come face to face with love,
Are we going to love or are we just going to say we’re going to love?
There’s no time for false faces in autumn. (Except for maybe Halloween)
Is love alive or isn’t it?
Love is too big, too pervasive, too good to fake.
you know how it feels and you need it.
Is love alive or isn’t it?
The Kin-dom of God is like a beloved waking up at 3am to call to make sure you’ve awakened for your alarm…
The Kin-dom of God is like a dear friend loving on your dogs…
The Kin-dom of God is like another dear friend bringing you a delicious dinner, unsolicited.
The Kin-dom of God is like a sunset so beautiful that the sky lingers with it, dancing between darkness and the bright orange colors as long as it can…
The Kin-dom of God is like a hug from your kid…
The Kin-dom of God is like a stranger on the way home from rugby practice, helping you for an hour to try to get into your locked car that’s still running…
The Kin-dom of God is like parents going out of their way to spend time with you…
The Kin-dom of God is like friends gardening together…
The Kin-dom of God is like people–busy, busy people– going out of their way to live into the commitments of love to you.
The Kin-dom of God is like these things, and so much more.
Thanks be to God.
The first frost felled the leaves
into a carpet of yellow and orange.
The transition was sudden and left
no time to think.
Winter is coming and it must be
listened to and listened for.
Advent approaches.
Here in the blue hills of Asheville,
I was anointed this morning by the needles of the White Pine,
falling upon the crest of my head.
The smell of Rosemary Geranium filled me.
The wind flowing through the trees, kissing them,
created a symphony of sound,
drawing me into its mountainous song.
My heart swelled with love for these connections with creation.
They are family to me.
Thanks be to You, God, the Creator of all.
Around the bonfire, I find a circle that does not end,
a space where stories are told, but not claimed,
plenty of darkness to hide the pain that lingers,
a centerpiece of fire which cannot be controlled.
Around the bonfire, there is plenty of love,
and the laughter mingles with the fire’s crackles,
as the moon emerges shyly from its slumber,
everybody is dancing in the moonlight.
Around the bonfire, life slows down,
to a pace that allows some perspective,
the smell of fire saturates the busyness,
and cuts into the forgetfulness of abundant life.
Moving to the city brings about
the bustle and excitement of
lights that never go out.
The guitars and horns and
trains whistle to and from
forming a chiming cacophony.
Noises and voices surround,
encouraging, soliciting,
keeping loneliness away.
The proximity of city life
to the desired destinations
of work and play is sustainable.
The fields of grass have yielded
fields of concrete that assist
travelers to their destinations.
And in the midst of the convenience,
and the concrete, I find,
I can no longer hear the land.
I can’t hear the tree change
when the seasons call it,
or the frog’s nightly lullaby.
I can’t smell the change of seasons,
or see the constellations put on
their nightly brilliance.
I can’t spend an hour with the sunset,
over a field of wheat and chaff,
this I can do no longer.
I can’t taste the invasive honeysuckle,
I don’t have memory of this land,
I can’t walk it with closed eyes.
For all the sounds of the city,
I trust the land is talking,
but I can’t hear it anymore.
Here we are, at this bench
There is only one bench here to hold us
Its cracked red edges and rusty nails
We are here, exhausted travelers
Needing a place to rest.
Needing each other.
Will we share this bench?
Will we fight over it,
till we both fall exhausted on the ground.
The blisters on our feet,
the smell of our tattered clothes,
give witness to a ragged journey.
Will we claim separate ends of this bench,
or will we lean on each other,
sleeping the sleep of the exhausted?
If we are so connected,
why do we tarry,
in leaning on each other?
Why do we fight over this bench,
when there is room for all?
2014 Graduates, here’s to you!
Cheers to you, Cheers
to the culmination of a chapter that has defined you long enough,
to the end of all nighters and ceaseless caffeine,
to the chest-tightening finals,
and the papers that just need 200 more words
to the many conversations about the world,
to the hours of scholarship and research,
to the months of searching for a major or writing a dissertation,
and the self-doubt that never quite leaves
to the new creases in your forehead
where your brow has been furrowed,
to the years where you sought to find
that which makes you come alive
Cheers to you, Cheers
to the silencing of your inner critic
as you receive that dean’s diploma,
to the fear that asks: ‘what now?’
to the new knowledge you now hold
to the professors who have given you
scholarship from their fields
so you may not forget that
an unexamined life is not worth living
to your people who have seen you through,
to your significant other who knows the
hours of study and tears of stress,
to the many prayers for God’s mercy and peace
Cheers to you, Cheers
to the new season that you enter.
Do not welcome this season with fear,
Do not call trepidation a friend,
Do not become crippled with doubt
Ask what makes you come alive,
Ask who is your best self,
Be fiercely protective of your self worth,
Guard it and give it away to no one
Do not assume that you can do this alone,
Embrace the interconnectedness of the earth and humanity,
Know that love is clay that we were molded from
And it will continue to shape you
Cheers to you, Cheers
As you welcome learning as a close friend
and you aren’t afraid of doubt in your faith journey,
For doubt keeps you asking questions
And you should never stop asking good questions
Do not turn a blind eye to injustice
Fight it.
Do not let philanthropy fool you into forgetting
the everyday need of your neighbor
Like it or not, the new season is here,
but the same problems exist,
So take your new found knowledge
and work to solve those problems
Cheers to you, Cheers
Know this is not all or nothing,
it’s just another piece of your story
waiting for you to embrace it,
fully present, fully alive
God is in you, above you,
behind you, underneath you,
and ahead of you. Fear not.
Here’s to calloused hands,
tired backs, mindful presence,
and loud laughter, and
revolutionary ideas.
You did it! You.
Cheers to you, Cheers!
Tales of a Sojourner 