Lonely Path

I'm all alone. It's late at night,

And listening replaces sight.

With moon and stars behind the clouds,

I strain to hear what darkness shrouds.

This lonely path I walk along

Is strangely void of nature's song;

No crickets, toads, or hooting owls,

No cats or dogs, no barks or howls.

So in my heart I start to fear

That surely there's a Presence here;

Though frightened, I decide to face

The Spirit that is giving chase.

I grip my coat as all the trees

Announce the coming of a breeze;

A gust of wind—and then, somehow

I know my God is with me now.

He's speaking through the rustling leaves

In whispers that my soul receives:

I've watched you, my beloved son,

As though you were the only one.

Morning Moon

Like a prince before the king,

Supplanted now, but lingering;

Clinging to the brightening skies,

Wondering where his glory lies.

It lies among the lesser lights,

When crickets greet the autumn nights,

When stars above and lamps below

Are humbled by your ivory glow.

Royal Visitor

Lovely monarch butterfly,

Won't you spend a day?

As I watch you flutter by,

How I wish you'd stay!

Traveling princess, where's your throne?

Must you hurry there?

Sun yourself upon a stone,

Here beside my chair.

See what I've prepared for you.

Here's your favorite food:

Chrysanthemums and aster too,

Milkweed for your brood.

Take your place in royal dress;

Sip the nectar wine.

Fill my heart with happiness;

Let me watch you dine.

Shoebox

Each year, my dear child, on this day God selected,

I retrieve from your past all the treasures collected.

I climb to the attic, the place where I hid

The tattered old shoebox with mold on the lid.

The first thing I see is your Mother's Day card,

Then pictures of us I refuse to discard;

All faded, uncentered, with unfocused faces,

Old Polaroid snapshots from various places.

Here's you at the zoo with a headless giraffe.

You're crying in fear, and it still makes me laugh!

Another of you long ago at the farm;

You're gazing at grandpa and holding his arm.

That's you dressed in white as some prayers were sung,

The first time a priest placed a Host on your tongue.

You folded your hands and kept bowing your head;

Please stay with me, Jesus, was all that you said.

Your rosary beads and a lock of your hair,

Some pictures of saints and a child's book of prayer;

Besides these I cherish the drawings you made

With crayons in colors of every shade.

A note from your teacher that says you're a peach,

So friendly to all and so easy to teach;

And finally the poem you recited one day,

I hold in my hand and can still hear you say:

Dear Mommy, I thank you for all that you've done.

You taught me that Jesus is God's only Son.

We read from the Bible, and pray every day

That Jesus will please take my sickness away.

You want me so badly to stop being ill,

But taught me to say, "I submit to Your will."

So even though now I am only eleven,

I feel as though soon I'll be going to Heaven.

Now done with the relics that yearly I crave,

I turn my attention to Christ's empty grave.

You washed my soul clean with the Blood that You poured,

Then rose from the dead, Oh my Savior and Lord!!

I picture my little one saved by Your grace,

Now wrapped in the arms of Your loving embrace;

Up here in the attic, the place where I hid

The tattered old shoebox with mold on the lid.