The Antiquated Deck

The Antiquated Deck

“Night, night” hummed the undulating, sweet soprano purr,
“Night, night” sang the virtuoso cricket,
“Night, night” waved the owl across the hollow of the hills
Up underneath the antiquated deck.

On and on rose the sails of multi-clouded masts,
On and on fell the waning moonlit sigh,
On and on wheeled the stars across the tarpaulin of time
Drawn over all like a shushing lullaby.

2009/2015... Ken Paxton

THIS HARD WINTER

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1, NASB)

There are times of difficulty when faith and hope are one and the same,

when our faith in God is no stronger than our most desperate hope that He is real.

Theologically faith is a gift from God as solid as ice.

Experientially it is as real as water, ever wetting, ever evaporating.

Rationally it is the cloud reflected in a mirage.

THIS HARD WINTER

This hard winter

ain’t close to over yet.

Icicles grin from the fence,

bare branches claw the sky;

the overcast closes in,

and renders a mocking cry,

a dreary shush of silence.

Frosty rude, insensible

cold burrows to split

the sinews, joints and marrow.

A soul wavers, another departs,

misery on misery,

the cracking of my heart,

a perfect storm of sorrow.

God Almighty

Faint lights falter,

and falter fainter yet
as frozen batteries perish
and filaments grow black;

blue shadows lie and tell me

dreams are better that grow slack
than dreams we never cherish.

God Almighty

Jan. 2008… Ken Paxton