‘Search,’ He said. Out in the brine, / pilgrim sailor am I, hearing rustle of rigging.
Just a hummingbird, aflutter by flowers / in an ordinary neighborhood, yet / though no bird of paradise, / I shall soar by the Spirit to Paradise / someday, singing ‘Hallelujah.’
I asked a friend in wonder, “Will there be / any cats in Heaven?” My friend replied / with confidence, surprised, “Oh yes indeed, / of course, lots of cats in Heaven!”
There is a tide that flows through every life; / initially the steady, surging swell delivering / a new-born soul, the image of Omnipotence, / as sun and moon and planets all aglow rejoice.
Volume 48, Issue 2