IT WAS JUST A SHOWER

It was just a shower, 
but his street seemed to celebrate
and shout in happiness. 
Heaven was here 
as he sat on the porch
and saw the holy water 
washing the houses 
and helping the sidewalks 
seem state-of-the-art 
once more.
So many birds, he knew,
were noticing 
what this light rain 
was doing 
to this dark morning, 
so many minds 
were making fresh thoughts
as this fresh rain fell.

ONE WAY OR ANOTHER

One way or another,
something always happens.
Perhaps the wind roars
around someone's windows,
or an orange falls open
in a person's hands.
Maybe a voice of fulfillment
sings a song for a friend,
or lamplight lands on a desk.
A car could carry
a promising life to someone's house,
or a man could make a pancake
for the person her loves.
One way or another,
something happens.
Sunshine could simplify this day,
or a storm could cause the trees
to clap their hands.

ONE MORNING

There was nothing
out of which loss could be made.
Not the smooth silver computer
present before him on his lap.
Not the coffee in a brown cup
on the couch's arm,
nor the effortless wind
from the silent world
outside his window.
Plus, he knew that thoughts
of kindness and contentment
were being born by the billions
across the earth
at this precise moment,
and the next,
and the next.


So what could create loss?
The silvery light outside?
The moments
unwrapping like presents?

ON A SUMMER MORNING

He sits on the deck, and a single thought
opens like a window. Sunlight enters
his life, and a casual breeze
whispers his young name. A wonderful feeling
finds him as he sits and sips his coffee.
He decides that his life
was founded to fight evil.
He decides to soar.

ON A QUIET NIGHT

On a quiet night, there is nothing happening
but what should and must happen.
The holiest thoughts are there
for us to use, as instructive
as the modest stars above us,
and the flow of feelings is as free
as it ever is. The silence extends
to the ends of the earth. The hearts
of all things are nothing but silence.
No noise lives in stones or in the fingers
of our neighbors, or in the trees
that stand like trustworthy sentries.
A quiet night will love us,
and will let us love our lives as well.
There will be rivers of thoughts
where there was wilderness inside us.
There will be the bliss of starry skies
in our minds, where there used to be rust
and disregard. There will be coarse voices
made soft. There will be quietness
to care for all things.

NOBODY

Nobody came to see him last night.
There were no stars in the sky
when nobody came, and no wisdom
in the books on his shelf.
There was nothing in the newspaper,
and nothing in anyone's thoughts
but breezes blowing across oceans.
It was just nobody and him
in the center of history.
There was happiness,
but its shirt was gone
and its pockets were silent.
There was hope,
but its hands held nothing,
and nobody knew it.