Water Into Wine

Grey skies are forming
Uncharted course approaching.
Plans disturbed, treasure guarded,
Wary of new danger brewing.
Rain is dripping down,
Dripping down
But you turned water into wine.

Grey skies are coming
Tossing the horizon.
Sirens awaken, wailing for safety,
Havens flooding, ships leaving.
Tides are growing high,
Growing high
But you turned water into wine.

Grey skies are falling
Losing grip on what remains.
Running through the drops,
Hopes frail and foundations failing.
Rain is pounding hard,
Pounding hard
But you turned water into wine.

Grey skies are changing
New seas for sailing.
Currents carrying off dreams,
Rolling down the hill.
Tides are drifting on,
Drifting on
But you turned water into wine.

Intrigue

They had two faces, those places.

The graveyard with its cold, bleak headstones. Lined straight in perfect rows. Granite pinpointing where memories ended. Green grass rolling away, waiting to swallow up more dead dreams.  

The cemetery with stones vying for attention. Reaching high, proclaiming the owners greatness or set low, bearing an ordinary tale. Its craftsmanship the show of their family’s life. Lives condensed into a handful of letters. Stories and tales of old life held captive by its headstones.

The graveyard and the cemetery. So many lives returned to where they’re from. Waiting, for their glory or their doom.  

5.31 Growing Up

“No turn on red” was the first sentence I ever read. I think I read it ten times that day, I was so excited. Grandma had to write the sentence out for me so I could prove it to her.

Then I got to reading about the cat in the hat, and the swan that played the trumpet, and the four sisters who grew into fine little women.

Now I’m reading about red lights as I drive and what I will need to know to teach others how to read those books I did. Just a little strange isn’t it? 

5.30 Villagers

He grew up here, learning with our families. The one who remembered everything he learned. With a gentle word he responded to those he came in contact with.

He knew the right thing to do. He was the one mothers applauded. The one who didn’t seem to be faint of heart.

But he was acquainted with sorrow. Often turned away and misunderstood. Didn’t have the face to amount to much, the village people said.

He was the serious one. Not concerning himself about his own situation. Always worrying about something, carrying weight on his shoulders.

He turned water into wine. 

5.29 The End

Remember when we closed our books with a final thump? When we rushed to get them out of the kitchen and into storage? When we asked Mom what we were doing to celebrate?

Remember when we ran on empty playgrounds because the neighbors were still in school? When we got together to trade skills to better understand our work?

Remember when we watched the big kids celebrate the end?  When we were handed certificates and collected our best works?

Remember when we always asked each other when their last day of school was? Now it’s here, and here it stops.

5.28 Precious Treasure

Playfully, they ducked inside a crippled barn to escape the rain that frowned down upon them.

 “Stop it,” she giggled, as he reached for her. “Did you hear that? There’s something here.”

They tip-toed in the direction of the sound, both wide-eyed for movements.  The sound came again and he pulled the lid off one of the piled up boxes.  Bright eyes and chubby cheeks stared back at them.

“A baby? Here?” Their questions echoed.

She lifted her out and cradled her.

 “I wish there was some way we could take care of her,” she sighed.

“Would you marry me?” 

5.27 Variable

We’re a rag-taggle bunch. Some of us are well dressed and know their stuff. Most of us walk along, daily aware of the battle we face. We’re all from different places of the journey. Variation brings us together somehow, but it’s also torn us apart. We’ve seen other warriors affections’ vary, challenging part of our laws.

Our orders have never varied, we fight for the Son. But watch, the Enemy can come from any side--variability is his game. Weakened hearts or tired speech, ever a new battle raging at us.

But there’s no letting up. We’ve enlisted for life.