Monthly Archives: April 2014

Was a Time We Remembered

At low tide Out on mud flats The pilings stand Old men weathered By the hard winters Faces all checked Suffering the sea  Advertisements

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The Eighth Liturgical Hour ~ Compline

Night like so much grace falls upon the spent soul Shutting out the panorama of the undone Swaddling the spirit softer than starlight The warm glow of candlelight All turns inward now toward reflection Toward repose  

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The Seventh Liturgical Hour ~ Vespers

Do you hear it? Whispered on the evening wind? Evensong’s gladness for the worn and weary who through the long day have worked God’s work One eye focused beyond the horizon confident of the coming Kingdom The other fixed firmly … Continue reading

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The Sixth Liturgical Hour ~ None

She stands on the corner behind her hand`scrawled sign silent begging for what I suspect must be more than simply one more meal The sign reads, ‘Hungry! Homeless! Help!’ Her eyes, though seemingly sober, don’t want to connect with mine 

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The Fifth Liturgical Hour ~ Sext

Bless, Lord these gifts we receive from your gracious hand Bread we have not kneaded Wine we have not pressed Aged cheese and sausage Sun`ripened fruit 

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The Fourth Liturgical Hour ~ Terce

The birds outside my window have taken up their tasks well before I took any notice Scattered here and there across the frosty grass they seek daily bread

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The Third Liturgical Hour ~ Prime

I look down at my hands They are so uniquely mine Each scar a reminder of some distant carelessness Each bold vein a portent of some unspoken passion 

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The Second Liturgical Hour ~ Lauds

It is humbling to realize I am not the first to praise you in this new day In the silence of my awakening I hear Creation singing your grace Laus tibi Christe! Gloria! Gloria! Alleluia! 

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The First Liturgical Hour ~ Matins

I awaken It is the beginning A moment born in stillness An instant nurtured in darkness when listening I hear the whisper of the Voice  of that One who knows my name 

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Arboretum

With closed eyes I walk beneath the trees so green with new growth the very air breathes life Can you smell it? 

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Expectation Eight

It is in the absence presence is known Even the divine nature abhors the vacuum draws all to vortex He’s there where he’s gone missing Even as he’s not there where last he was when we had him 

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Expectation Seven

She sits in dry dust before a stone behind which not even a breath stirs Her own sighs all shattered glass now broken in breast 

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