trapped in suburbia

In my ache for God I also find myself hungry for beauty.

I am impatient with the concrete and glass, siding and metal and shingles of suburbia; tired of sunsets elusive behind man-made structures and stars washed out by our artificial, never-ending daylight; stifled by the noise and commotion that drive away the peace of silence and stillness and nature-noises.  I want to see beyond the rows of edifices that stretch well past the flat horizon.

God seems easier to find amidst the glory--the raw, untempered beauty--of His creation.  I don't mean to imply that Creation didn't fall, too. I'm not really making any theological statements here; just speaking of my own thoughts and tendencies.  Maybe I just see God more easily in what He made directly.


And when I yearn for God so painfully, it becomes easy, perhaps, to feel trapped within the fences and walls of suburbia.

some whimsical nonsense

Maybe, my dear, the world has fallen over;
   perhaps we're sailing through the sky.
Perhaps the stars have all gone hollow
   and eternity is on our side.
It's possible, of course, that everything is over—
   but maybe, my dear, we're finally alive.

summer embers

Summer evening
clouds are lit by gold.


Cool wind
whispers across my ears.


Slender leaves,
  parallel telephone wires,
    rising birds
are darkened against blue and gold
  of summer sky.


Breathe in embers of evening
and daylight.