in the park
the japanese magnolia is shedding
its petals
easter sunday
two syllables turn despair back to delight
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holy saturday
we planted the peas today
rolled their plump green bodies
into the black bacterial dust
gardeners call inoculant
and then tucked them one by one
under the soil
good friday
today the warmth returned
and the blond-haired boys were
running wild through beds
of brittle hydrangea
and barren rose canes
when the littlest
still unsteady on his feet
caught his teddybear bib on a thorn
maundy thursday
we’ve had a cold snap again
frost nipping the eager blooms
of the japanese magnolias
and kissing the bricks
that weight the blanket
stretched over the half-moon bed
of drowsing flowers
Jesus at 33
This year my half birthday falls on Good Friday; I will be halfway through my 33rd year. I’ve thought a lot about Jesus over these past six months, wondering what human life was like for Him, wondering whether He started counting down the days to the cross, knowing full well what was coming.
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the dying snows
yesterday morning the newly-fallen flakes
lay large and lacy atop the earlier shroud of snow
ash wednesday
when i woke the snow
was once more falling
winter’s blight
what once was whole has now been riven
and the guilty soul bows to be shriven
is there such a thing
is there such a thing as “the ugly truth”
or is truth, no matter how hard —
no matter how painful —
no matter how hard we wish it were not so —