Sunrise: Psalm 19

The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they display knowledge.

There is no speech or language

where their voice is not heard.

Their voice goes out into all the earth,

their words to the ends of the world.

Family & Road Trip: a Sketch

Rain drops alternately peck and hammer at the windows and roof, drawing their squiggly patterns and pock-marks only to be swept away by the windshield-wipers.

Kelsey in front of me: fashionable pink sunglasses on her blonde head, pretty little face pressed up against the window, stuffed cow tight in her arms, somehow sixteen tomorrow.

Daddy at the wheel: I can see his alert, albeit headache-worn eyes in the rearview mirror, focused on the road stretching and winding before and beneath us.

Mom at his side: navigating, company-keeping, singing to her 90s music on the stereo and looking most put-together of any of us.

Jessica, front-left: currently undistracted by rain, scenery, music; pale yellow wisps of hair curling around her face from the humidity in spite of ponytail and headband, lovely face buried unsurprisingly in a book.

Green-covered mountains rise and fall behind and before us, reaching and dipping on right and left, and mist rises to follow the cars on the curving road, or to obscure patches of mountain trees.

A quiet settles comfortably among us, relaxed to the rhythmic humming of the wheels below.  Many miles past and many yet to go, and there is peace in and among and between us, and there is joy.

And it is beautiful to me.

From My Emptiness

Solitude, silence;

Breath and rest for the soul. Come,

Great God; make me whole.

I Look for You

     Solomon Ibn Gabirol

I look for you early,
my rock and my refuge,
                  offering you worship
            morning and night;
before your vastness
I become confused
             and afraid for you to see
     The thoughts of my heart.

Roads Go Ever On

     J.R.R. Tolkien


Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.

Holy Sonnet XIV

     John Donne

Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you

As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;

That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend

Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

I, like an usurp'd town to another due,

Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;

Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,

But is captiv'd, and proves weak or untrue.

Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov'd fain,

But am betroth'd unto your enemy;

Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,

Take me to you, imprison me, for I,

Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,

Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

Under a Hat Rim

     Carl Sandburg

While the hum and the hurry

Of passing footfalls

Beat in my ear like the restless surf

Of a wind-blown sea,

A soul came to me

Out of the look on a face.

Eyes like a lake

Where a storm-wind roams

Caught me from under

The rim of a hat.

I thought of a midsea wreck

and bruised fingers clinging

to a broken state-room door.

Ambition

     Lord Byron


He who ascends to mountain tops shall find
  The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow:
He, who surpasses or subdues mankind,
  Must look down on the hate of those below.
Though high above the sun of glory glow,
  And far beneath the earth and ocean spread,
Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow
  Contending tempests on his naked head;
And thus reward the toils which to those summits led.

Eternal Reverie

Lydia Daugaard

Morning stopped,

To listen to the mighty whisper

Of the heron's unfolding wings.

It stopped for the oaks,

Their arms outstretched 

Against a rosy and roused canvas. 

The sanguine sky with his timid demeanor sat,

Rubbing his slumber-glazed eyes. 

And the morning stopped to admire him, 

Rendering his cheeks an emblazoned red. 

Morning stopped for the barefoot hills,

Scampering with pleasure towards the horizon.

It stopped for the callow ground, 

Set like a dream amidst a lazy tier of fog,

And embellished with altogether flawless beads of dew. 

Morning stopped to compose itself,

Beaming with the youthfulness of daylight.

It is a mystery.

Morning stopped,

But aroused an eternal reverie. 

Love Through Me

    Amy Carmichael

Love through me, Love of God;

There is no love in me.

O Fire of love, light Thou the love 

That burns perpetually.

Flow through me, Peace of God;

Calm River, flow until

No wind can blow, no current stir

A ripple of self-will.