Evening in Saanich

As the evening’s misty darkness
Slowly falls
Upon the silvery waters
Of the peaceful inlet,
The tall dark pines and cedars
Stand out high
Against the equally silver sky,
As calm, majestic silhouettes
That hide the private,
Hidden lives
Spent along the shore,
Full of laughter,
Full of tears,
Full of hopes
And full of fears,
Living with life’s energy
Among the moose and bears,
Among the tall alder,
Sombre cedar and haunting fir;
Hunting, trapping and fishing;
Taking only what nature can bear;
Taking from nature
Only our share.

Cy, Aug., 1987

Early Morning Snow

The snow is so bright
In the morning light.
Everything is so white,
Covered by the thick fall overnight:
The trees, the street, the Christmas lights,
All lift my spirits to a greater height.
I thank God for such a beautiful sight.

Cy, 2006

Bluejays

Busy bluejays fly from tree to tree,

Straight and purposeful as arrows

As if knowing where they’re going,

Knowing the snow is coming,

Choosing to stay;

Choosing to be free;

Struggling, hoping

Toward the coming spring

When life will be renewing,

Oblivious to our struggling

To have more than the bluejay has.

Cy, Nov. 11, 2008

dreams
The new moon, a canoe-like sliver,
In an inky, black, celestial river,
Framed by pine trees tall
Like a pair of sentinels.
An arrow shattering the oaken pew back;
Wolves, sleek and glistening black,
Running through the night;
I, breathless, wait for morning light.


Cy, 2005?

Morning Geese

What a beautiful sight
As the geese flash white
In the morning light
As they take flight
With my heart so light
'Cause God's got it just so right.

Cy, 2002

STARLINGS

The starlings are squealing
Just before the storm
Like little stuck pigs:
Excited to eat Before the rains wash
Their food away.

Cy, 2001

The evening breeze,
The cackling of the geese,
The singing of the crickets,
The rustling of the poplar leaves,
The roar of the traffic,
What an aberration!
Oh! How it disturbs my spirit!
Like the roar of violent people,
Disturbing the peace of my dreams.

Cy, Sept. 24, 2001

Carrion Shore

Seeing them soar,
Thrilling at the gulls' beauty,
These "Jonathons",
Symbols of liberty
Yet, now I see,
This autumn morning ,
All of these corpses
Lying here,
They won't make it to another year.
I look beyond this shore
At the beautiful survivors
And know that liberty
Will return each year.


cdw , sept. 15, 2001

Dewey circles of spider webs, glistening;
Spread to dry in the morning sun,
Hanging in the thornbush,
Ready to catch their prey,
Like some of us today.



Cy, 2006

December on the bay (Britannia)

Golden-brown shore grasses
Are waving quickly to the setting sun.
Glittering shards of ice float on the waves,
Rhythmically breaking on shore;
Clish, clash, slosh;
A shore of rounded rocks;
And old, light-grey bark,
Deeply grooved
In a beautiful smoothness,
Worn so by the high-water waves of springtime,
Protecting the heart
Of the poplar trees.
The grass, the ice, the water and the bark,
Lit by the sun.
How they make my spirit run!

Cy, December, 1999

DAWN ABOVE THE CLOUDS

Oh! Sweet, sweet Sunshine!
I see your bright face
In the golden moonshine,
Glistening there on the airplane’s wing.
I see your laughing eyes sparkle
In the stars above
And I only want to sing.
I see your pale, white face
In the clouds below,
But most of all
I see your sad, sad heart
In the infinite, cold, blue heavens,
And how it wants to flee,
Yearning for the softness
Of a faithful love
To heal you back to life
With joy in every moment,
And every moment without strife;
A kindness only God can show,
Maybe through me in a candle’s glow.
Ah! Morning breaks the purple darkness
In a line
Of pink
And white
And blue,
So clear and pure
It staggers me
Just to see
What sunshine’s power can be:
To lift my heart
With hope for you
Like ruby red and diamond dew;
A gift of God
No man can give.
It bans our fears
And dries our tears
So we can live;
So we can give
A cup of wine
Amid the sweet sunshine.


Cy, 1988.

Consolation

I’d love to heal your heart, love
I’d love to fill it with joy.
I’d love to give you all I own
In time and things, and every word
That speaks of kindness,
Speaks of gentleness,
That drives away all fear.
I’d give you every sweet caress
That wipes away all tears.

Cy, (date ?)

Conscience
The dark grey thorns
Pierce the bright white snow
Like the prick of my conscience
Piercing the complacency
Of my consciousness.

Cy, 2004

Civil At The Civic

As Josephs exudes his
Metaphysical coat
Of many colours,
In rainbow sounds,
Harmonizing into
Silver and gold
Rhythms of his soul,
As they touch
The beauty or truth,
Carried in his heart,
His armour against
The blackness of hypocrisy,
The stinging red
Pain of injustice
Still felt
By his little child,
Deep in the pain,
Deep in his soul,
The darkness of his soul,
Reaching for the colours
Of his metaphysical rainbow.


Cy, august, 2000, Nelson, B.C. (To Joe Keithly)

Chorus
The tenor chorus of the frogs;
The soprano chorus of the crickets,
Urgently and fervently trilling
Their mating calls
From the young bulrushes,
Carried in the warm, spring, evening air
Are like a man’s and woman’s calls
To each other
In their God-given tenors and sopranos;
Yet, the slower, thoughtful lapping
Of the gentle waves on shore
Tempers the mating atmosphere
Like human thoughtfulness
About each other’s characters,
In the light of God’s guidance:
That we are not merely frogs;
That we are not merely crickets
Who mate
Without consideration
Of suitable character.


Cy, 1990?

CHICKADEES

These little, chirping chickadees of winter
Do cheer my lonesome heart
As they flit about the branches
Of the pine trees in the park,
Just outside my window.
The ticking of the chime clocks
Mingles with dogs’ barks
And the hum of cars and trucks,
Which I hear
Rolling in the distance
With the roaring of the jets
As they cut the solid white of clouds;
And then the sound of splashing slush
From beneath nearby rolling tires
Startles me back to earth,
As a gentle, chilling breeze,
Passing through my window,
Caresses my bare feet and calves,
A soothing balm to cheer my soul,
A little gift from God
To let me know
That He
Still loves me so,
Like His chickadees of winter
Which cheer my lonesome heart.


Cy, 1994 ?

Cheerful, yellow dandelions
Carpet the green grass floor ,
An early promise of summer,
In springtime,
Cheering our winter
Sorrows.


Cy, May 5, 2006

CHATTERING AUTUMN LEAVES

The row of golden poplars,
Chattering their leaves
In the evening breeze
Have a lot to say,
At the embers of the day,
Like thanking the sun for its warming rays;
Thanking the clouds for quenching their thirst
Without needing to say, “Me first!”:
A million voices praising in chorus
Upon the altar of this earth
To the One Who made us.
The gorgeous, golden, glowing, maple leaves,
Tinged with ruby red,
Set against the backdrop of
The bright, blue sky:
Such a sight to lift my spirits high!;
Oh, how it relieves my sighs!
My heart soars into the sky,
Like the gulls spiraling high.

Boston, U.S.A.
Lord, Where are you in our lives?
Are You the link between husbands and wives?
Do we love according to your love?
Do we see it from above?
We see that it is spiritual
But we are also physical.
We need to live them both
In harmony lived in truth.
The spirit takes priority
And makes the body happy.
The spirit’s joy
Is the body’s joy,
So neither is neglected,
And God is not rejected.
Male and female He created us
To grow in Him as He loves us.
Jesus’ words are there to guide
So in His bosom we can hide
Like this baby kitten’s muzzle,
Mamma’s bosom, it suckles and nuzzles.

Cy, 1984

Boarding the bus
With hugs and kisses

And noisy, longing goodbyes,

The men with gentle, parting ‘bidding’;

The women with teary eyes:

Some say, “See you soon!”

Or “It cannot be too soon!”

They have aches in throats

From stifled tears;

Stomach butterflies

From hidden fears

Of last goodbyes.

For some, the consolation

Of knowing God goes with them

Leaves few regrets

And peaceful hearts;

When they depart

They need not fret

With whining and pining,

Leaving the soul to grieving.

The caring for each other

Is seen in longing looks.

The bus roars out,

And on your toes, you shout

”Peace brother” and “Love you mother”

With a mix of hope and fears

That makes one bear the tears.

Cy, 1994?

Blue sky and sunshine
On sparkling white snow;
Tree shadows play
As the crystals glow.
The Chickadees ‘dee’
And the rapids roar.
The trees creak in the cold north wind,
Swaying and humming tranquility.

Cy January 2001

birthing (Pulpit) rock

Like home,

Yet not.

Like child,

Yet not.

Adult child,

Spirit free.

Joyous child.
Child’s forest,
Child’s hills,
Child’s flowers,
Child’s trees,
Child’s birdsong,
Child’s trail,
Child’s rock,
Child’s view,
Adult joyous,
Adult free.

CY. August, 2000, Nelson, B.C.

Autumn’s decay is upon my spirit,
Dying like the fallen leaves,
And now I hear the chirp of an unknown bird
Like the Ghost Who has come to save me.


Cy, November 4, 2006

AUTUMN
You fluttering leaves

Of the aspen trees!

The wind makes you clatter

Like the rains that patter,

But your veins are dry at your season’s end,

Then the rain wets you ‘til autumn’s end.

You will be buried by the snow:

By the rain which will have become the snow.

The rain gave you life,

But, now, it coldly buries your life.

Sometimes the rain can be like some friends:

Sometimes warm, sometimes cold, but staying with me ‘til my end.

Cy, 1997?

AUTUMN SUMAC
Fiery tongues of sumac leaves,

Elegantly draped in perfect rows,

Give witness to nature’s ordered lives,
So, of God’s creation, we can know.


Cy, Ottawa. 2002

AUTUMN GULLS AT BRITANNIA BEACH
Like patches of snowy ice
On the sky-blue water,
Flocks of white gulls sit,
Shining in the cold, autum morning
Of a bright and clear October day,
Gathering as the geese did,
Finding strength in their numbers,
As we must,
Before, to the south,
They go on their way;
Before, to the next world,
We go on our way.


Cy, 1999

As I see the daffodils
Sprouting through the snow,
I feel God's spirit still
Helping me to grow.




Cy, March 24, 2007

As I follow it from flower to flower,
Just one gorgeous, black and orange monarch
Feeding amongst the bees
On the lavender asters,
Basking in the warm September sun,
Serenaded by chi-ing crickets,
And fluttering poplar leaves,
Carried on the cool breeze,
Carries my soul in thankfulness
To our creator.


Cy, September 30, 2006

Anna

ANNA

Hello, Anna,
Hello, my friend.
Hello, Anna,
Hello, my friend.
I’m sitting with my coffee,
But you’re not here.
Hello, Anna,
Hello, my friend.
No more cake and coffee
‘Cause you’re not here.
Hello, Anna,
Hello, my friend.
No more tea and cookies
With you here.
Hello Anna,
Hello, my friend.
Puppy’s sitting with you,
But you’re not here.
Hello, Anna.
Hello, my friend.
I see your flowers blooming,
But you’re not here.
Hello, Anna,
Hello, my friend.
I see your paintings on the walls,
But you’re not here.
Hello, Anna,
Hello, my friend.
But I close my eyes and find you,
And you are here.
Hello, Anna,
Hello, my friend.

Cy, 2003

anguish

ANGUISH AND FRUSTRATION

When nothing is all that comes,
When “nothing” dulls the brain,
It’s time to ask why I fail the task.
I know that I need to move.
I know that I need to act.
Life is passing by.
Is it time to ask the question “why?”
No!
It’s time to act:
Take pen to hand and write
Whatever
Comes
To wash
Away
The emptiness
Of the night.

Cy, 1996

Amusin' Me

Cottontail's feedin' 'neath the apple tree, apple tree, apple tree.
Cottontail's feedin' 'neath the apple tree;
Just amusin' me.

Cottontail's walkin' down the path, I see, path I see, path I see.
Cottontail's walkin' down the path, I see;
Just amusin' me.

Cottontail, he don't bother with me, bother with me, bother with me.
Cottontail, he don't bother with me;
Just amusin' me.

Cottontail, I see that you're so free, you're so free, you're so free.
Cottontail, I see that you're so free;
Just amusin' me.



Cy, Mon., May 8, 2006

The crickets sing amidst the tall, grey grasses,
Amidst the field of Queen Anne's Lace,
Amidst the rustle of poplar leaves,
Amidst the warm, August sun,
Amidst the easterly breeze,
Amidst my thoughts which take their ease
Amidst the earthy smell of peace.


Cy, August 9, 2007

ABUSE (ON THE BUS TO TOFINO)

I saw your little boy
Hit you, hit you, hit you!
Little boy, spoiled hitter
Becomes big man, spoiled hitter,
Because you knew not
What to do, what to do, what to do.
Can’t say “no!”,
When appropriate “no!”.
He learns:
Your feelings hurt,
Your body hurt.
But don’t despair,
For he can care.
You can hug and
Take the time
To say:“I care.”.
Can’t say:”Don’t hit me!”?
Or: “It’s wrong to hit me!”?
No control, no control:
Controlled before self-control:
He hits:
You hug
His little fists.
You care.
He is loved.
You hug
His little fists.
He learns C Control, control.
He learns
Self control.
No more shame,
Abuser’s shame:
A sociopathic,
Evil child,
Or,not?

A SUMMER EVENING

The cool, sweet, moist,
Summer, evening smell
Of clover
Settles on me,
Even as darkness
Settles on the earth,
Cloaking me
In peaceful exhilaration.
The music of the many crickets
Fills my ears
With nature’s energy and rhythms
At the close of day.
The misty moon haunts me,
Hanging there,
Amongst the silhouettes
Of weathered pines,
Evoking an emptiness,
So I close my eyes,
And my ears are filled again
By crickets chi-chi-chi-ing,
And I find peace once more,
Rooted in the earth,
My home for now,
A stepping-stone to heaven;
But, for now,
I feel the cooling breeze
And the mosquito’s bite,
And fill my lungs with clover smells:
Just happy to be here.

A PATCH OF ICE

A patch of glistening ice

In the waning sunset;

A lake upon a lake;

A tiny lake upon the great lake;

A lake of light shining on the darkness,

Like a single small white cloud

In a great blue sky;

Like a small truth upon a great lie,

Shining like a beacon

In a dark storm,

Upon the shore,

So that we may know Him

Forever more.

A HIKE WITH WILLY (OUR DOG)
They passed by the cricket-call line,

Which was ringing loud and shrill.

They entered the sun-warmed, cricket-circle-meadow,

As the singing chi-chi-chi-ing,

Harmonized with the underfoot swish, swish, swish

Of crisp, brown, fallen leaves.

Passing through the field quickly,

Along the path of cat-tail and burdock

And goldenrod and golden aspen,

And sunlit sumac crowded there,

And fluffy, thistle seed, puffing and glistening silver-white,

And floating, silken, milkweed seed.

They do not hear,

Nor do they see

All of this.

They do not heed,

Like Willy,

Yet not like Willy, bounding here and there,

Hurrying home,

Worried about passing time,

Which I forgot,

While breathing the joy of this beauty,

Which, in dallying,

God presents to me.

A Eulogy To Princess Diana
Mother to William and Harry;
Affectionate and compassionate celebrity;
Sympathy, the mark of your charity,
Born of a heartfelt empathy
For the suffering of us sisters and brothers:
For, that suffering, you too, has smothered.
You have felt our many sorrows,
With no affectation borrowed,
And healed with your comforting touch,
Those who need it so very much.
You gave and searched for love;
Now you bask in it above.
Mother to Harry and William
And many needy millions:
We thank you for your love,
Which, to spread, you always strove.

A CHILD’S STORY

Oh! To dare to read those words
So deep within our minds,
Those words forever written
Deep within the lines,
On the pages
Of the book
Of our childhood haze.
Those childhood joys are easy,
But what of the darkened days?
Darkened with parental fear,
And eternal longing
For the love of our first love;
Painful sorrow of rejection,
Emotional neglect and disaffection;
Burning anger at the missing strokes;
Frustration of the spoiled child:
Over-indulged brain,
With discipline neglected,
Produce an over-stimulated pain.
Yet lacking in confidence
From an over-dependence;
Cared for, but little loved!
Ah childhood!
We carry the story still,
For deep inside it’s shrill.
We dare not turn the page,
For we dare not see the rage
Of an adult still in childhood,
Lest the tears shall cause a flood.

Fifty Bullets

Fifty Bullets

Fifty bullets in an unarmed man!

Crazy cops don't give a damn.

His bride waits forever for her man.

The judge let the bridegroom's justice down.

"Just an accident.", the cops put down.

"We thought that a gun was surely drawn."

Fifty bullets in an unarmed man!

I really don't think that they gave a damn!

Cy, April 30, 2008

Spring again.

Birds calling.

Leaf-buds sprouting.

Squirrels begging once again.

Sun heating.

Air warming.

Snow melting.

River running.

God's peaceful message calling.

Me melting.

He crying

To us again.

Cy.

Looking Up

The seagulls circle in the springtime sky;

Bright white on bright blue,

Like shooting stars in the midnight sky,

Bright white on dark blue,

Like God's love on hate's dark hues.

poems

If Jesus should come today,

What would He say?

Seeing how we stray,

Having our own way,

To our consciences saying 'nay',

Keeping His words at bay,

Worldly things filling our days.

If Jesus should come today,

What would He say?

If Jesus came today'

What would we say?

Cy