Poems below to Lynn, my love, my life partner, my friend
I watched the palm branches dance outside our bedroom window
And eyed the houses across the valley.
I thought of what a Paradise the Lord had placed us in here,
The fulfillment of a several-decade Dominican dream we have had.
But as I watched the palms shake, while I was alone in our bedroom
I knew
Without the hint of any doubt
that without you this would be no Paradise -
And with you,
even in a dungeon,
it would.
I love you.
Written September 16, 2000, at the Quinta Victoria, when you were gone on an outreach to a mountain campo
To find
my most romantic
most fantastic
sweetheart
sweet-tart
friend.
I'd fly to Paris,
Row in Venice,
Trek the globe from end to end.
I'd buy a mansion,
Pay a ranson,
Stockpile moonbeams,
rainbows,
summers,
dreams.
Yes,
All this I would do
for a century or two
Yes I would
If I didn't have you.
My honey,you're sweet
in formals or bloomers
You smile's your wardrobe
in ghettos or Jumer's
Your fragrance-your friendship
Is Paradise bounty
Perfuming regally
Here, in Knox County.
Yes, when I said "I do"
There could be no adieu
To my Galesburg sweetheart
YOU!
Written Feb. 7, 1993 when we lived in Galesburg
Valentine's Day poem for Lynn
His piercing in me
did not err:
You were with me
everywhere.
We've been entrusted
to the Archer's care
With Him and each other
Forever to share.
==============
In '49 they came to Sutter's Mills
For gold was found in California's hills;
The roads were filled with hope in '49
As multitudes sought for the golden mine.
Oh '49, they said, would be their year
In '49 their fortune would appear.
But '49 saw many dreams go bust;
Yes, '49 showed where they put their trust.
For some the shining metal was their god;
While others sought their mansion and its sod;
But one in '49 sought something more
To meet these men and share God's love galore!
So when the busted sagas all are told
Twas 49er Lynn who had the gold.
Jarabacoa, June 29, 2007
===============
To My Wife Lynn on our 20th Anniversary
TWENTY TWENTY
Of twenty questions, is it one?
Did it include the Latin sun?
Did oceans hug its lengthy run?
Were humpback whales within its fun?
Was Saturday its favorite night?
Or teenage smiles its glory bright?
Did seekers turn from wrong to right?
When once blind eyes were given sight?
Did popcorn pop and soda flow?
Did egos shrink and teaming grow?
If done again would it bestow?
To special children special glow?
O sons of God, from whence came they?
From earthly womb, its heavenly pay?
How rich to have them here today?
How bittersweet when gone away?
Can it be its years are twenty?
With promises of more to see?
This joyous union, can it be?
A sampling of eternity?
August 5, 2004
Chicago
===================
Of the Flowers of Quinta Victoria
The Confluencia, Beaver Creek
Metaphors of the water we seek
The Lake of Peace or an acre pond
He’s waved for us a Providence wand
Views that dazzle, views of awe
Hills and trees which our eyes saw
His scenic Presence always near
In Gilson, Salem, Belvidere.
His love displayed in autumn blaze
His warm touch felt in Dominican rays
And always barns with rustic form
Including Berges’ summer dorm!
No famines yet for our feasting eyes
Instead a wealth of sea and skies
No droughts of beauty but kaleidoscope
Of scenery filled with joy and hope.
With this our daily bounteous bequest
What can our future be but blessed?
He gives this panoramic gold
With flower whisper, bouquet bold
As floral reminder of better hues,
Which like His lilies charge no dues.
Aye! let the ‘scape of Nature’s face
Affix us ever to His grace.
September 21, 2000 Jarabacoa
====================
To Lynn
Spired rockets filled with feed, majestic stores
O’erlook green latticework, their bounty’s source,
Their humble boast of harvest wealth implores
All future generations, "Stay on course!"
Unerring cycles made to reap and sow
Announce a country karma painted gold
Unending saga, told that all may know
That plans of harvest, watered, will unfold.
Let rows of corn and gathered bales remind
(Although it takes the patience of the saints)
Success, from sowing, is not far behind
As Providence its picture for you paints.
We’ve labored hard for love, my love, for love
And felt its recompense from pow'rs above.
Written while driving through beautiful southern Wisconsin to pick up Orion from Camp Wakonda, July 18, 1999
It’s Christmas, dear
We’re here alone
Except for Lovie
(And Orion phoned)
It feels more humble,
An empty haze
The kids aren’t here
Like former days
The Instagram and
Facebook thing
Can’t fully salve
This empty sting
But what of that
First Christmas day?
When Son left heaven
To go away?
Where was his Father
His throne, his glory?
Was there anyone
That knew His story?
Manure and hay
Far away from Home
Though totally famous
A complete Unknown.
Upon that baby
A universe hangs
Contextualizing
Our empty nest pangs
So babe, be glad
Sorrow can’t hover
On this Christmas Day
We have each other!
Christmas Day, 2013
After a nice phone conversation with Orion and the Karrenbrocks