Beggar

I am a beggar in this world;

everything I have has been given

to me.

          My bowl is always

daily empty:

                    I receive and I can

keep nothing I am given.

I have never lost the bowl

I beg with

                  and know enough

has no limit though too much

is too hard to carry and what one day

offers, the next cannot

provide.

            I, too, give to other

beggars

            as we wander to where

we've heard there's water

turning to wine.

-Byron Hoot

Upon my 68th Birthday

I see pictures of George Floyd 

being killed and know no law can

justify that

              and think, "How much self-

hatred he has to kill another man

hiding behind his uniform, hoping to say,

'I was just doing my job.' " 

                                   Think how we,

as individual citizens, have given

our responsibilities of being human

beings to legislators -- a caricature 

of flesh and blood and a beating heart 

and The Golden Rule tarnished by

so little use.

                   I am 68 today. 

And the fact is I think more,

feel more love and beauty

and that random radical called

grace than I ever have.

I have rarely hated myself 

to the point of denial, projecting 

justification for acts criminal.

I am flesh and blood and know

the urge of Cain; I am flesh 

and blood and know the urge of Jesus

and have chosen one over the other --

self-love is not selfishness but

commonsense.

                       And a democracy built

upon the blood of Native Americans,

the backs and bastards of slaves

has much to repent for 

                                     where the material quality

of life is not a worthy sacrifice

for our humanity.

                         I am 68 today

watching the sun shadow my yard

with the shadows of silver maples

on fresh cut grass.

                          Here "the peace

that passes understanding" is almost

so; here is not everywhere.

If I knew how to pray, I'd 

pray for "peace in our time"

but change the word "time"

to "hearts" -- peace there takes

care of time and circumstance

everywhere.

                    Today, I am 68.

-Byron Hoot

That Order

I have seen deer and bear and turkey,

robins in the yard, barn swallows 

in the air, women I have loved,

words read or heard so order time

and place

                to make me question why

I would ever follow a law again.

And think or feel or understand that 

law is a charlatan of order.

That each of us know the order of things,

of who we are and that to be, thereof,

breaks all law and commandments.

Should and ought,

thou shall, thou shall not

turn into profanity.

                         I am dreaming.

The preference for law over order we call

history.

           I never forget that "dreams are more

real than reality"

and we've all known -- at least once -- that sense

of order where nothing else was needed. 

-Byron Hoot

THORNS

Was it some hidden desire, disease or sin? The Bible does not say,

But there was a "thorn in his flesh" that bothered Paul, so he'd pray.

God would not remove this, despite being all powerful and omniscient,

And, knowing a servant's weakness, said only, His grace was sufficient.

No one knows of the thorn in Paul's flesh, only why it was left neglected.

It was to show God's strength, which through a weakness was perfected.

Now, Paul had prayed three times about this thorn, he had dealt with it that long,

Though it was a weakness, he wasn't condemned for it, God's grace being strong,

Knowing God would not let this weakness separate them must've been a relief.

That God doesn't condemn a believer's weaknesses, if in such a grace is belief.

Maybe, just maybe, Christians should think twice before holding other's with scorn.

God's grace might be sufficient for them too, if a weakness to their flesh be a thorn.

So, before frightening another believer with any notions of hell's fires to burn,

Maybe we should remember that the merciful are blessed with mercy in return!

~

An Inspirational Sonnet Form

By PHILIP KENT CHURCH

Winding Down

Winding down,

At the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains,

In the shadow of lavender’s haze,

Wrapped in consolation. . .

We lift our gaze,

To the rivers running down. 

Reflection of strength and of praise

We release another day.

Winding down,

At the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains,

In the shadow of lavender’s haze,

Wrapped in consolation. . .

We lift our gaze,

And we kiss the stars above, 

Reaching for more than we see,

We will reach infinity.

-Janey Pease

One Scene, So Much to See

So curious.

                 I see pretty much the same scene

each morning  nuanced by seasons

that know what they know about being what

they are in their allotted time given.

And yet

            what arrives day after day

from inside me causes me to pause

and feel how contemplation done -- even

half-assed as I do it -- reveals,

enters into

                  "the thing itself"

in ways I can only follow never

lead nor want to replying 

to "Follow me" with "Yes."

Which begs

                   the question, "How long can this last?"

and I hear, "Forever is just a short 

time for now." and think I feel a smile,

see the silhouette of a bow.

-Byron Hoot

Photograph by Greg Clary

Photograph by Greg Clary 2020