solstice

we wake 

after the longest night 

look out at the snow settling on branches 

oblivious to 

the lengthening days 

anticipating only more months of winter cold 

yet in a few days 

we gather to celebrate light 

that candle flame in our being that waxes when 

we sing our carols 

of faith hope love and joy 

of a child born so innocent and soft so full of true warmth 

looking out with trusting eyes 

at the light 

in ours

Darrel

a relief map of the heart 

signals the highs and lows 

the beauty and ruggedness of the topography 

but each is a singular journal 

of what love can do 

 

so when you check the heartbeat

below the bowtie 

and divine its shape 

you will discover 

hope and truth 

    in meadow and stream 

intellect and openness 

    in forest and lakes 

appreciation and concern 

    in hills and rivers

and love overflowing 

love flooding the plains 

for this is the calling 

this is the shape 

this is the heart

of a friend 

    colleague 

        pastor 

Christ follower

there is nothing like a choir

there is nothing like a choir 

a kind of confluence of rivers 

    of blueish thought 

    reddish feeling 

    greenish beauty  

    yellowish freedom and 

    purplish imperfection 

flowing together as love

lasting a moment and forever 

in the universe of this space and time 

a kind of lifting 

    of the heaviness 

    to the heavens 

that can’t happen with one 

or even five 

or with a cast of superheroes 

a kind of graduation dance 

    fills a room with light 

    from the twirls 

of accomplishment 

and possibility 

a kind of window 

into the heart of God

dark into light

it’s a December thing 

that tells me to look to the light 

when it’s the darkest 

light up Christmas tree 

and house 

and candy canes stuck in the frozen ground 

and candles on piano 

and every day 

sun goes down a little earlier 

darkness in our hearts gaining purchase 

but December has other plans 

beginning the climb 

out of the longest night 

into O Holy Night

it's coming up on Easter

it’s coming up on Easter and 

earth sits in pandemic posture 

tawny grass 

naked trees 

march wind blowing is dry 

and we wait for vaccine rain injected 

an IV of goodness pumped 

into waiting world 

like a baroque motet 

all sincerity uncompromised un-ironic 

to resurrect this patient in ICU 

lulled by beeps and breaths faces covered by ppe

its coming up on Easter 

but first the death must be complete

pine tree in the wind (for Bob B.)

snowy ground underneath circled with 

needles     cones detritus 

solid trunk rises sixty feet 

green branches oscilating with 

the gusts of February fanning fists 

but the tree withstands endures

it was made for this with 

roots reaching deep beneath the snow 

into frozen ground 

    into Manitoba clay 

        into the tangle of pedigrees from other trees oh 

to be a pine tree 

needles facing wind with 

sharp confidence

rising from a circle of love

Lynda paints hymnal

voices sing bright colours into being 

together bring olive branch into swirling focus 

red purple yellow green and blue in centrifugal sky 

centered by inner cross 

all in starry harmony 

extended to infinite master of the universe 

worthy of praise 

    bearer of burdens 

        hearer of prayer 

            center of meditation 

                giver of love and law 

so let us sing beneath the eagle’s wing 

fishers we

snowy morning post-Easter

April post-Easter

in cold COVID time

snow frosts yard

every    few        hours

like icing on paska  

but no multi-coloured sprinkles

& we wait for spring

love-shedding sun

to lighten dark spirits

dark minds

inside four walls

of pandemic isolation

look out window

past trees            past clouds         past skies

to eternal & touch the risen one for hope

beyond this knowing and unknowing

beyond this unprecedented precedent

beyond this stasis

& it shall descend with sunny sprinkles

COVID Good Friday

Bach sonata slow

solo double stops

like steps to the hill

wooden violin on neck

bow stroking gently

John on stage alone

performs to empty pews

camera a river to lonely homes

we watch in two minute

delayed lag

tears welling up

for we must slowly walk

this lonesome valley

hillward

psalm XVI

north wind winters through

picking up

licks

of snow

lining down roads and ditches

leaving curved organic roadside ridges

of manic March

on this lonely prairie mindscape

waiting for spring

psalm XV

we walk through

snow and cold and drive

shoulders convex

on iced street

whiteness drifting

we’ve heard the third

Eroica

time shifting magic

triumph and tragedy in the spirit of

humanity

when in a blink earth shifts

and tires drift and

we gently stop backwards

you are there in the

major and minor

in the hunch

in the drift and shift

in the forte and piano

in the father and son

Mennonites 2019

you wanna know about Mennonites*

build big churches now

big wide stages

drum sets

electric guitars and lots of microphones

pews nicely padded

or maybe just cushioned chairs

all in neat rows

banners hang walls with scripture

and

and

a white cross hangs from ceiling

beautifully balanced

but it ain’t just a cross

oh no

it’s gotta have some use

it’s also got Bose speakers

inside

connected to the sound booth

technician controls all

*to quote PF

psalm XIV

birds echo this cloudy morning

sound fractured in branched woods

and my cold hands touch the warm skin of my ear

perked to hear birdsong

the music of summer winging

Phil

practical close-cropped hair

above welcoming laugh

faith lived in doing

serving tables

frying rollkuchen

shaping and guiding young lives

around template of truth

crafting lyrics and melody

into songs of smiles and tears

carefully shaping resonant wood

with curved symmetry

instrumental in creating

family

that sings together the tune

of close-cropped servanthood  

psalm XIII

there’s a beat

elusive amid rustle of

hypnotic repetition

wind waving branches

inside fabric of new leaves

kick drum heart beat

beneath interweaving brass band

flights of finery

steady always there beat

the flap of wing in

massive blue infinite

et in terra pax

and on earth

peace

no

this earth bleeding

anxiety

     pain

         distrust

    anger

       death

           fear

       coldness

deep

deep sadness

falling into doubt

daring love to be present

here on terra firma

this firm earth

so frozen now under all this

suffocating

snow

and yet we bundle up

scarves

down coats

wind proof hoods

and walk

crunching ice underfoot

and smile to neighbour

and open hearts to people

let them in

yes

love be present

and on earth

yes

winter sunrise on highway 75

this prairie blossom

unfolds like letter from friend

love envelops me

Lake Ontario

blue of sky turns white just

before the horizon of water

blue

we walk along the beach of this

immense lake cool water lapping

ankles

sandal straps linked through

fingers at this place where

river

meets lake old old town of

English tea and lawns wearing

shrubs

and trees like dinner jackets but

here by the water rocks and logs

strewn

random beauty just gaze the

horizon and think

thanks

Psalm 14 (31 mm)

night

storm-filled

thunderous

rain pounding like doubt

chaotic

and then

sun revealed in blueness

reassuring

sharp shadows on green ground

ditches full

puddles remain

drying in warming breeze

Psalm XIII - lilacs

perfect purple pointed tenderness of

blossoms

profuse embarrassment of

perfumed summer

air breezing across lawn owning these warm lazy days of

June

peasant hedge made royal with the tender grace of

colour