Last Dance

Come dance with me, my little one
Wrap your arms around my knee
Place your feet on my big ol' foot
Come on an' dance with me.

Hey, dance with me, oh Daddy dear
We'll twist fast an' gyrate slow
Don't be afraid there's no one here
I'll show you how to go.

Come dance with me, oh daughter dear
I'll hold you close this one last time
Your groom is waiting patiently,
But for this dance you're mine.

Sneaky Morning

A cool and quiet morning snuck in.
In the midst of newspapers and comic strips,
Coffee and a plate of bacon, biscuits and eggs
Morning just showed up unannounced.

I looked up and wondered what happened
Why had the dawn so quickly slipped away?
When did it choose to wander out the side door
Not bothering to tell me good-bye?

The King of Dawn

In the early morning hours the sky is dark, midnight blue and clear
As if God laid his royal robe over the earth for a moment.
The stars glitter brightly, they are His royal diadem
Dropped carelessly onto the majestic robe as He passed by.

The crescent of the new moon is surely the jewel
Set atop His Scepter, laid aside for just a while
As He tends to the hearts and hurts of men, women
Little ones who cry out even now to a loving God.

Royal vestments aside, the Shepherd of our lives
Searches each one out, reaches out to comfort.
He turns to see His Son and Spirit waiting, watching.
To the great Comforter he speaks softly, gently;

"Tend this one, and those over yonder, they need Our touch."
And in the early morning hours, awakened by the Son,
Warriors rise up, drop to their knees and intercede
Not knowing who or what the need is, but knowing.

In the early morning hours hurting and desperate folks
Cry out to the Omnipotent Creator, not as King of Kings
Nor as the Great Shepherd of His far flung flock
But like a little lost child, crying, "Abba, Daddy".

Dark and Damp Morning

It is a morning that is still dark and damp
The air is so very cool for a Summer day.
In the darkness there is no birdsong
They've not yet awakened to brighten the day.
 In the distance there is the sound of traffic
Men and women already rushing from home.
Minds wrapped around all they must accomplish
But it is a morning that is dark and damp.
 The world is still quiet, nature still rests.
The grass clings to the drops of rainwater
That so freely fell during the short summer night
Soon the sun will burn away the excess.
But the grass drinks quickly and deeply in the dark.
 Lights are blinking on in distant windows
Coffee is surely brewing, children are being roused.
Loud yellow buses will command the roads.
Little ones will appear hump-backed in the distance
Shouldering backpacks and talking loudly
Hiding their nervousness on the second day of school.

But it is still a dark and damp morning.
Nature still sleeps, waiting for the sun to slowly climb
Inch by inch into the empty eastern sky.

Muted morning

The morning is damp and muted
As if the rain turned the volume down.
Back yonder a rain dove calls
Her plaintive cry is lonely an' slow.
Other songbirds are slow to join in
As morning rises and the day beckons.