like hands

Lord,

love me

like the

hands

of a

clock

love to

tick,

like the

fingers

of Oscar

Peterson

loved to

run along

the ivories,

love me

like a

mother

holds her

babe.

Light waiting

There is little

that is really dark

in the spaces I occupy,

whether it be lit by

buildings, or cars,

or by the light in the

connection of me with another,

light abounds,

and it is darkness which must

wait, and waiting is not

its best attribute.

A meditation

The white rose

reaches for the

sky,

while the sky,

tired and grey

bends to touch

its beauty,

and is surprised

by the smell.

Water

Water, you low moaning wonder, 

be present in my preparation, 

help me be like your low moaning ever-presence, 

that I might appropriately noticed,

may be appropriately used,

and appropriately balancing.

This Breathy Moment

This world shows its seams, 

and I fear there may be no more answers.

When the sinew between all things seems flimsy,

come to me in whispers I might recognize.

As the old unravels,

and the new bulges with pregnant possibility,

it is in the here I rest.

In this breathy moment

where the next right question begins.

Somewhere a dog howling.

A dog somewhere

is howling at the

siren of the night,

as I have howled

with the desperate

separation from

your sanguine power,

dear one,

please remember

that I have longed for

you, and bless me

with the awareness of your

constant nearness.

No Divisions

There are

no divisions

between us

in this food we

serve, no divisions

in the service we provide,

no self in

the timeless,

motionless

and still highest power

we serve, only imaginings

and far off times,

slipping like

a cliffs under a

strong currents on

a river bank,

slipping into the now here.

Community

At this, the day's end, let the light
guide the meal, the fire, and the water.
Please let me channel wholeness
and oneness with all my brothers and
sisters who are graced
to share this moment together.

Flexibility

Infintely adaptable creator,
please grant me the flexibility of the
stalks of grain that I am graced to eat,
the sense that the world, as I prepare this meal,
loves me and bridges all gaps as my
temporal thinking bends and shifts
and adapts to the fullness of
infinite change that is you.

To heal from the disease of selfishness

Wash from me, Universe Abounding,
as from my fingers the waters,
rinse me clean,
remove the remnants of self-seeking,
and release into this food I prepare,
the limitlessness of your power.
I recognize your domain,
and know I am center, and nothing in it.