Teeth of God

I clipped daffodils,

those little teeth of God,

the day your grandson died.

The rain bent them low

yellow bells heavy

face down.

Like spears in a vase

the cut stems still

take water.

The window light,

filtered by glass,

frames life.

Two weeks on the planet,

we're too weak, to stand

alone.

Mud Pi

Thrill my eyes with mud fresh path,

tree fallen,

daffodil known to slug banana

and branch light golden.

Spear my ears with surf pound, new

creek gargle and cormorant squawk.

Let my feet find mint folds

and flat beach when the rocks spill.

Lungs suck spray gulls play shadow wheels

between fish gulps.

My desk abandoned,

phone face dark,

nearer my God to Thee

not more possible

but still, 

the effort to love, 

easier, with breeze.

Celestial Sandbox

     A stand alone God,
     not alone,
     caws us to sing.

     Music in orbit, 
     heart beats
     the point pounded home.

     Life in light years,
     mothers  
     closer than stars apart.

     Celestial tryouts boom
     behind planets,
     a child in the sand box,
     croons.