Sweet Air

Sky bruised
purple-gray,
awaiting release
of all its pain --
cleansing rain. 
Wind rustling
treetops green,
leaves belly-up with 
silvery sheen;
air thinning,
fragrance keen,
"Sturm und Drang" serene.

Release

Chasing a tornado, I've been --

breathless and frightened within

lest I do something wrong

to make that tornado grow strong --

as though I, against a tornado, could win.

En Route

And what do they know

of who you are?

Words are like kites

rustling mutely, afar.

But let it be, let it be --

let the words have their day.

Let some thoughts touch ground

before blowing away.

Surrender

Answers that elude me --

go ahead, fly away!

Sad and disgusted,

I'm too weary to play.

What God wishes me to see,

He will reveal.

I've no more patience

to withstand the unreal.