A Warm Morning

Morning hush —

Heat builds,
leaves glitter.

Into pure silver
dissolves the shade.

Birds call
winging it
to higher, darker places,
any eve
where tattered night
may hide,

seeking retreat
from day's clear,
searing eye.

(9/2011 - 5/2018)

Summons

“When the sun rises each one of us is summoned
by the living and the dead to praise God.”
Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander.

In the morning
you sent clouds towering
and drove fine ice
into the tender rose,

(its red petals scattered, 
a holocaust 
on pure white ground)

and took my breath away!

Father, I seek you
like death, 
clean and clear
in the ringing air.

Green and golden, 
long shadows flow east
and birdsong fills 
your nodding trees.

In the gentle rhythm
of the swaying wind
there I hear 
your song again.

(10/2/2012)

молитва

Фото Брайан Федерл: Утро, штат Вашингтон, август 2014 г.

глубоко в моем центре

лежит

слово.

он резонирует

мягко, это

шепоты

мне в ухо.

ее любовник,

тишина,

объятий

слово

как густой туман

ласковый

золотой

прибрежные склоны.

но эта сырая песня

метафоры,

тревожный гонг,

бедных подражания,

пересмешник.

терпеливо,

слово

сопротивляется

все объяснение.

это просто

есть.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Prayer

deep in my center

lies the 

word.

it resonates 

softly, it 

whispers 

in my ear.

its lover, 

silence, 

embraces 

the word 

like thick mist 

caressing 

golden 

coastal slopes.

but this crude song is 

a metaphor, 

an anxious gong, 

a poor imitation, 

a mockingbird.

patiently, 

the word 

resists 

all explanation.

it just simply 

is.

The Ground of Life

“He who is alone and is conscious of what his solitude means, finds himself simply in the ground of life.”   Thomas Merton.

I am alone, listening,
to every sound.

The breeze
whispers poems,

the plaintive dove
softly moans

in that small place
above our front-porch,

and tells me that love
is certain.

Golden Day, Emerald Summer

Mt Hood National Forest, 2014, Brian Federle

Golden day, emerald summer,

buds erupting

to green clusters

of sweet fruit –

so sit with me awhile

in the morning shade

as the sun slides

imperceptibly toward night

and see how small birds alight

on St. Francis as he blesses

all God’s green world with

life rioting, wind-

blown seeds,

weeds wedging into small,

narrow spaces between

slender blades

of tender spring grass;

and though

I cannot see you,

know that I love you

as I know

you love me.

So together

we’ll listen

as the morning

breeze sings

of life never-

ending!

(6/3/17)