How the Sun Loves a Home [Poem-a-Day: 27]

How the Sun Loves a Home [Poem-a-Day: 27]

Houses I see, but they aren’t home to me.
In my mind they house another family.
Some that I visit, and in which I stay,
But to live there forever just is not my way.

I like to see them from afar,
meet them on the porch where they are,
and talk for a while, enjoy a dinner or tea,
maybe stay for the night to wake with the morn
and watch how the sun loves their home.

Oh, I love how the sun loves a home,
how it fills it with light from morning ’til night,
and how the shadows dance round in return.

But then after I see, its the road left for me;
not to stay but to wander and roam,
to be in one place and then move to another,
all the while tracking the sun.

The forest feels deep enough to let me be free,
and the sky in the desert is home.
The mossy, green knolls all laugh as they roll,
and I laugh in the joy they’ve become.

Because oh how I love,
the way the Son loves a home.

Spyglass [Poem-a-Day: 22]

Spyglass [Poem-a-Day: 22]

I pick up my spyglass
on this fine overcast day,
and raise to the horizon
to see what comes this way

Dawn thunders on,
pouring over the waves:
The crests of these grassy hills,
burning embers, they blaze

Dawn slips on by,
bringing with it noon-day light.
The sky is still a blanket,
and the birds are a-flight.

Dusk rises up
from the horizon to seize;
before her long purple gown
the remnants of day flee.

Night hushes us
with its midnight blue song.
The clouds slip away to show
the starry host and throng.

Sing through the night,
my darling, sing with the moon,
and I’ll raise up my spyglass
to the Right-Now’s tune.