Pink Sunset Photo Credit

Japan has given us Yamaha, Toyota, steampunk fiction, these, and these – and the haiku. These small poems move me because they juxtapose surprising ideas and concretise overlooked truths, holding beauty taught within the bounds of seventeen tight phonetic syllables that let mind and soul expand beyond.

For me, they are always an expression of gratitude.

So I’ve written some – my thanksgiving worship for the week that’s past.

 

1686

Prince George makes headlines

Again: there’s something in us

Intrigued by Kingship.

 

1687

Our five-year-old son

Plays ADT-ADT:

Gotta love SA.

 

1688

Scott: so delightful –

I live vicariously

Through his energy.

 

1689

Sometimes I want things

Just because others have them:

That’s ridiculous.

 

1690

The sunset shouts in

Soft pink: there is more than this!

Twilight cue to trust.

 

1691

The Gautrain brought him

Fast – early – home – with daylight

To spare! Bring it on.

 

1692

Friends give us plants and

Bits of their lives start growing

In our own: that’s grace.

 

1693

We watched twilight sky –

Swooping flits of bats and moths:

We should do this more.

 

1694

College, you’re 50!

So glad that I am threaded

Through some of your years.

 

1695

(Everyone pretends

The Bishop’s hat’s not silly:

But of course, it is.)

 

1696

Baby herbs sing soft

Of Scarborough Fair salads:

Even thyme, in time.

 

1697

Parenting is the

Slow erosion of sinners:

We are grace-junkies.

 

1698

At last our silkworms

Are hidden in rough spun homes:

Waiting for splendour.

 

1699

Post-bath and pj’s

Boys splash in sloppy mud. Sigh:

Don’t sweat the small stuff.

 

1700

Some days I live

All consumed by my glory:

So quick to forget.

 

1701

It’s not cool to flush

Moths down the loo just for fun:

Teach your children well.

 

1702

Muffins for breakfast

Should be the eighth world wonder:

Hot soft sweet fresh hope.

 

1703

Scott – proud – food spilling:

‘Look! Chewing wiff my mouth closed!’

Slowly he’s learning.

 

1704

The barber puts gel

In Cam’s short-cut spiked-up hair:

Boy-man emerges.

 

1705

Kitchen alone time –

I touch God’s peace and presence:

Recalibration.

 

1706

We walked before dawn

Silent streets shrouded in mist

Suspending troubles

 

1707

Scott takes off his kit –

Runs wild through party sprinklers:

Oops. Well. He’s little.

 

1708

We just-just make church –

Scott’s Sunday teeth are unbrushed –

But worship freshens.

 

1709

There’s God’s green glory

In mowed lawns and beds dug neat:

Ancient Eden peace.

 

1710

I snuggle with Scott

Instead of marking because

He’s more important.

 

1711

He ‘watches the news’

But really snatches down-time:

Snoozes on the couch.

 

1712

Knee-deep in crazy

We long for the thin places

Where heaven meets earth.

 

1713

When Mozart composed

He didn’t know I would be –

But God did: thank You!

 

1714

Ezekiel’s God

Was might and fury and love:

He is my God, too.

 

1715

The play date goes well –

Emily concedes a hug:

Scott is happy-wild.

 

1716

Potatoes bake hot

While we read stories: hungry

For Dad – supper – bed.

 

1717

Scott has flying ants

In a marg tub by his bed:

The wonder of life

 

1718

Sweet nostalgia

You drift warm in October:

Rich lovely sadness.

 

1719

Writing poetry

Is like coffee, sex and stars –

Makes life beautiful.