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2,500

  Two and a half thousand Two and a half thousand  I’m counting down The days that are remaining  If I last to eighty.  I take the beads, removing one In bed before retiring And thank the Lord for the gift That’s slow but surely shrinking.  Tomorrow as another one Makes it way and leaves me I cherish all the days I’ve left I grieve for all the days receding.  Another day, another bead Gone forever, without a heed, Slipping through my fingers Fleeting time just never lingers.  On and on the countdown runs It’s running down despite my sums Powerless to halt its progress Every person shares this process.  Til one day the hours run out For the wealthy and the poor Blinded God of time decides Nowhere for a soul to hide.  Keeping track will not bring back The days we spent asleep  The days we wasted thinking that The store was filling every morning.  Thirty thousand filled the tank  Now I’m left with eight percent The battery’s running down each day The power’s lower in early May.  Blessed o
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Dawn came looking

  Dawn came looking Dawn came looking over the sea Making its way from Wales The sun, red at first, Lit up the sky in May.  All is forgotten The long storms of winter All is forgiven The rains of December.  Bright shines the sun  Rising over the harbor Filling with light A morning of wonder.  High rise our spirits At the beginning of summer  Hope fills our breast  As we refind our courage.  Welcome these    bright days As evenings grow longer  Gold fills the sky The sea shines of silver  Birds fallen silent In quiet contemplation  Of the joy that is springing O’er a world that is sleeping.  The curtains are pulled The windows flung open The cool morning air Invading the bedroom.  Amazed by the ordinary Miracles keep giving Every day, every morning No matter our form.  Sunshine is running Across tousled bedclothes Gilding the pillows Warming our toes.  The colors will leach As the sun rises higher Leaving a memory Seared on our heart
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The final laps

  The final laps The final laps run slower But the pleasure’s all the deeper With time to stop watching the crowd With eyes for the faster runner In the later laps the needs recede No show of virtue - just necessity  Small things confer greater joy Thank God for the smaller things.  No longer two shirts are needed When one will do quite well Give the second to him who has none  The wish to accrete is gone.  Freedom comes with less clothes The naked spirit can sing  The psalms of the innocent days  When the world was contained in a cot.  Round the great wheel turns  Back to where it first begun Round our souls have come  Back to where they once belonged.  All of life is but a circle For the fortunate few who live Beyond the Bible’s best guess Surviving three score and ten.  Blessed are those who see Their children’s children’s first steps Blessed are those who last To embrace the ghosts of the past.  Old age is a often burden  But more than that - a blessing Given to few, the fortunate,
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April Morning.

  April morning   April morning has dawned Fresh with a light blue sky Filled by busy bird calls  From trees and hedges behind.  Our tiny garden - an oasis On the edge of old Dun Leary.  Proof that nature survives Even an urban setting.  Sitting as the sun is rising Over the neighbors fences Drinking in the sunshine Even as the family’s sleeping.  Hopeful morning in April March has taken its leave  The mercury slowly is rising  In the ancient barometer.  A gift to Clare Fitzgerald  A wedding gift in the year She married Charles returned Decorated from the Great War. .  His two medals sit in a case In the study overlooking the sea The weather gague looks down the stairs Witness to their private history. 
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Eloi, Eloi

  Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachtani? There was a time when Friday was not so good, When Jesus felt abandoned by his God Dying on a cross when all he did Was preach obedience to the Father.    The sun shone high in the Jerusalem sky Forced by soldiers to carry his cross Cruelty upon cruelty by a Roman ruler Because the Jews couldn’t kill their savior.  Betrayed by a man he knew so well Isn’t it always so? His faithful followers far away The courage of those who chose to stay.  Two days later the empty tomb His presence felt in an upper room What happened then - no one agrees Not then, not now, we don’t know how.   One thing for sure his memory grew He led a life not framed by death His teachings made more sense  Because, despite, the Friday event.  Ave verum corpus plays on the radio Tenebrae by Tomas Luis de Victoria Unsullied through the centuries  Witness to a Christian weltanschauung That world has passed but happily It keeps us nourished aesthetically  Built on conviction of a special da
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