Uncertain Truth and Beauty

At the beach the boy took his post. His shovel no toy.
He brandished a real tool to stem the tide.
As the enemy waves rolled in, to his joy
They collapsed as his vorpal blade plied
The sand and his foe vanished again
And again. My observation of this youth's
Triumph amid the breaking waves stoic Zen
Mastery of shells to sand proves Keats: Truth's
Beauty all right. I wish Heisenberg were here
To witness the Ocean's Windmill and the Boy's Quixote. 

Alas we are the ones altering the experiment. Near
The knight we are saved through no credit

of our own. Yet we are thankful for the witnessed present

and for those with us and yet now absent.

Hypethral

How I wished your vision could lift the whole church heavenward;
Yet the healing happens down here--one soul at a time.
Perhaps that is what you hoped we would understand
Eventually on the day you forgave the paralytic
That friendship lowered through the roof.
Holy roofs often make no room for
Real
Ascending
Love.

My Kitchen Debate

 Agape.

I remember

No recipe.

Mass produced

And still

My first experience of Christ

May have come

On a plate

After Kindergarten

In the Kitchen:

Tomato Soup

Celery

Peanut Butter and Jelly,

Wonder,

And Bread.

"Tell me the story again, Mom."