
Stuff grows left alone
Soil and sunlight are given
Beauty we behold
Copyright Francis 2022
Our Father lives in the charged ether,
above and all around us
in splendid symmetry,
the source of life and love and healing.
The fabulous towers, the spires
and flowering tracery of organic design,
were all conceived and built by better men than us
in an age of gold.
These, the natural avenues of life
in which our ancestors sat, goodness drawn down
into those cleansing naves
where the deep organ soothed,
where we took the true medicine, giving thanks,
not to some mystery or intangible presence,
but the reality of His environment, His conduit,
His soft conversation with us
which we have – nearly all of us –
forgotten, our memory blighted, expunged,
erased, while we plod obliviously
around the stark bare stones and ruined choirs
in awe of a shell, without ever seeing the whole,
the rich truth of the past
and future’s promise
in this penurious present.
Copyright Francis 2022
Night falls much later
The gloaming sighs, glass of wine;
swifts dart overhead
Copyright Francis 2022
The roses look good
This garden must be well kept
Enjoy the moment
Copyright Francis 2022
Watch the sun go down;
all colours of the past day
fade without a sound
Copyright Francis 2022
Bluebells are ringing
while the trees hum silently
Grasses are singing
Copyright Francis 2022
Who can see the wind?
Yet in deference trees bend
Still you deny God
Copyright Francis 2022
Alone in nature
Communion with the self
No time nor distance
Copyright Francis 2022
Watching grass grow while
sunlight burns off morning dew –
A primrose breaks through
Copyright Francis 2022
Yellow butterfly
You are not given a name
I will catch the moon
Copyright Francis 2022