Dependent

I watch the prancing - the clicking claws
Little features arched,
Taut and quivering
Tea pot of anticipation swelling
Inside the lap-sized body, pacing,
Moving, surging with restless striations of white, off-white

Heaving his adoration,
Unconscious of the length of your absence
Casting amnesiatic affection in waves of joy-spasms
He sees his master as if for the first time.

Does my soul wait like this, O Lord?
Hope like this? Yearn like this?
Do I, like my little dog,
Utterly, unabashedly dependent,
Cast my longing gaze out the window of my dwelling place?

Do I, with every sinew stretched,
Hope to be your captive?
To see you walk with long, large steps,
Up my driveway,
Come through my door,
Capture me, and lift me up?

Freed Verse

My verse is poor
But poor is good
In the hands of Him
Who multiplies bread

The Trees Sway

The trees sway again for you today, God.

They pivot and lean and arch with feline affection

Through and around the attending fingers of a northern Georgia wind.

They bristle and sigh and bend to the will of their creator,

And beckon me to join them.