Rehearsal

Same routine,
up at 5;
forgives himself
for last night’s
misdemeanors.

After all,
it’s only words!
Breakfast mind
plots away

and then comes back
to coffee and a roll.
Through a glass, he sweeps

a gaze at folly – every being
and himself - and feels

a sudden thud of peace.

Handshake

A man who works with his hands
lowers eyes.
Filthy palms and fingers!

He picks a bar of dirty soap,
vigorously rubbing hands and soap
into a stream of impure water,
freshens up his hands;
shakes them, dries them on
a grubby towel:
takes the biggest breath
he ever took to clean his heart

and now he offers hands and heart
as pure as he can make them.
Will you take them?

Wenceslas

King Andrew sits upon his camping chair,
gazes round a breakfast circle; cooking
on a campsite, frying sausages;
eggs are cracked and smells of coffee

snake along a breeze to rise and enter
into now. Everything is set for feasting
and a sunny time’s on hand;
morning’s up and a King surveys his land!

But wait - what is this quality called King?
Why do people rush to cook him breakfast?
Why do people serve a man, this elf?

At once a warm and gracious King
adores his people more than judges;
loves them for themselves.

God's Gift

It’s for me alone
when I step in the shower;
water hot and sharp.