I Saw a Silver Kite

 

I Saw a Silver Kite

(“Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Psalm 37:4)

I saw a silver kite fly high above the crimson sky.

I saw a battle gray army tank rising from the sea,
all creases and rivets, with teeth like a shark.
It folded itself high, assigned itself heavy and indestructible,
sucking in its prey, pretending to shred them serrated
and break them spread out upon the sand.
But, once it landed like a white-capped old man
it all was water, only water, and disappeared from the sand
again.

I heard the pack barking between sea and shelf
once the workmen started building the beach house above the waves.
The hammers pounded nails while the lumber echoed across the water,
each strike a woof and cry that canines took for language.

I watched a tiny butterfly, creamy and white (not a quarter inch wide)
continue its flight plan unhindered. The breeze
lifted its fairy wings above seaweed, above algae,
above breakers mistaken for monsters. Undisguised,
I might have missed her; airy and transient. And closer
I might have resisted the urge to make her alight upon
the leather flesh of my hands.

And in my latest dream I had done everything wrong, (a common
theme). I was running from the law.
My co-conspirator, dressed like a sheriff, rode shotgun and
held a rifle to my chest. When I awoke

I went downtown for blueberry crepes and latte.

I have seen kites fighting for space in primary colors
beneath the silver sky.

The dogs still bark while green waves deceive us.

Some see the rioters and disdain their grievances,
some hear of them and invite them to dinner.
All I perceive is Jesus reaching out to them,
His hands and feet swollen with splinters.

The Excesses of Grace

The Excesses of Grace

(“Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Psalm 37:4)

The scent of delight is close but so much
brighter than
the waft from the candy shop; the taffy and fudge
that capture
your senses. Inhalation excites a dozen
memories
for each unassuming boardwalker; a dozen
unique memories for each; a dozen people,
over 100 memories; and all are private, captured
within the treasure chest where time has stashed each
best reverie away.

My nose leads me in, my eyes take in each striped
candy pulled to perfection; bonbons and truffles
hand-rolled like miniature museum pieces under glass.
I hear the twirl of children with the best view of the
finest pieces at their eye-level. Licorice ropes and
all-day suckers bigger than the faces of toddlers making
handprints on the display-case windows. I cannot choose,
but age and weight conspire against gluttony; I chose three,
(dozen) of my favorites (I shall not return for some months
to come).

The scent of heaven, the glory of faith-and-love’s sweet glacé,
is brighter than the light invented before suns and stars
lit the stage of creation. The delight of Father-love consumes
my passions, abides within and without my senses and
satisfies more deeply,
gratifies completely the cravings of every memory and later,
celebration and failure so I cannot consume too often
the excesses of grace. Here I am again hungry; without money,
fascinated by the free dessert offered my undeserving soul.