WHAT IF

What if the Gods created the most beautiful planet

and filled it with valleys and mountains and trees

with wildflowers that bloom in Spring

with fishes, and birds and bees.

What if they added waterfalls…and ladybugs…an occasional butterfly

and sunrises and sunsets so colorful they kaleidoscope the sky.

And what if once they were finished the Gods were so elated

with the beauty and magnificence of the planet they created

they decided this beauty needed to be experienced to be felt…and thus

what if the Gods created people to enjoy it…what if the Gods created us.

What if the Gods hoped we’d not only appreciate the love and beauty that surround us

but spread that love and beauty to everyone and everything around us.

What if the Gods never dreamed anything bad would happen

What if the Gods were wrong…

What if the people tainted the beauty the Gods created

What if the people could not get along.

And what if now every time the Gods look down on us

every time they realize their mistake…

their tears fall as rain from the heavens

filling our oceans our rivers…our lakes.

What if the Gods created the most beautiful planet

with but one hope…that we’d enjoy it…

What if the Gods created the most beautiful planet…

and all we did…was destroy it.

HOPE AND THE BIRDS

There is a reason I love to walk as the ebony night turns to grey

a reason I love to witness the birth of another day.

I have always had this feeling as each new day’s begun

an overwhelming feeling of hope that, in me, rises with the sun.

Hope…that joy and happiness will somehow find a way

to wipe out the hate and bigotry…and our tears from yesterday.

Hope that we will be accepting…hope that love will conquer hate.

Hope that wars and bloodshed will end and peace we will create.

What helps refresh this hope that each new morning brings…

Is the moment when I’m out walking and the birds begin to sing.

For just as I believe with each sunrise my hope has a rebirth

I believe the voices of the birds trumpet a hope that’s in the Earth.

My hope is linked into the Earth’s…for as long as to hope she’s clinging

Her trees will grow, her flowers will bloom and her birds will continue singing.

Which is the reason I love to walk in the morning…silent…without words…

waiting for Earth’s first sign of hope…with the singing of the birds.

CAUGHT OUT IN THE RAIN

We have a decision to make every time we’re caught out in the rain.

Do we concentrate on what we have to lose…or what we have to gain?

Are we sad that we’re getting wet and does that sadness cause us pain

or is there joy to be discovered…in every drop of rain?

We cannot choose when the rain will fall

sometimes we’ll win

sometimes we’ll lose

but how we react to the raindrops in our life…

that is something we can choose.

WISDOM OF THE OWL

I saw her standing in the grass…an owl…tiny, proud…but mute

which I thought odd because in the early morning owls usually love to hoot.

I‘ve heard owls are intelligent…and are said to be wise too

so, while I had her full attention, I thought I’d see if that was true.

I wanted to show this wise little owl that I had an intellect too

so I asked her existentially…”Little owl, tell me…who are you?”

“Who am I?” The little owl smiled, “as she looked up to the stars…

“Why who I am, who anyone is…depends on who you are.”

With that she flapped her wings and flew away.

I admit to feeling foul…

left standing in the middle of the street

befuddled by an owl…

But in my defense I am just a human. 

Wisdom in our species has long been overdue….

Which, once again, in my conversation with an owl

I discovered to be true.

MUSIC TO HIS EARS

He never heard a word she said…

not in all their years

for the moment words escaped her lips 

they transformed into notes

and became music to his ears.

SALUTE TO Memorial Day

I have never been in a war…PEACE…I’ve lived it…breathed it…taught it…

but as much as I have hated war…I respect all those who fought it.

I’ve lived long enough to know …we all see the world through different eyes…

I know I don’t have all the answers…no one is that wise.

I know most people in the world hate the thought of war as much as me

and I understand sometimes we must fight to keep our country free.

I know the men and women who die in war are black, white, gay or straight

I know that war…and bullets…and bombs do not discriminate.

I also know on Memorial Day we put our differences aside

and we come together to commemorate every soldier who has died.

How we commemorate is different for everyone…as everyone adapts…

We visit graves, we pause a moment…a lone bugler plays Taps.

I cannot play the bugle…so when it comes to playing Taps

I found a different way to commemorate…as I say…everyone adapts.

And though I’ve never fought or died in war…yesterday (with very little pizzaz)

I played Taps on my harmonica…for everyone who has…

I played to commemorate those who have died in wars…

while still praying wars will cease…

to commemorate those who gave their lives in wars 

so I can play my harmonica in peace.

A LITTLE LONGER

Today we close our eyes,

we stand, 

we sit

we get down on bended knee

to honor and to mourn the soldiers 

who gave their lives to keep our country free.

Men and women who didn’t start out as heroes

but under the tension…the worry, the stress…

evolved, in those anxious moments, into heroes nonetheless…

And we thank our fallen heroes

who have made our country stronger…

not by being braver than the rest…

but perhaps….by being brave a little longer.

WHAT IS PERFECTION?

We are brought up to believe…it gets imprinted on our brain

that perfection is an ideal to strive for…but one we often can’t attain.

Then one day we become a little wiser and begin to think a different way

We see our life is filled with perfect moments

perfect nights

and perfect days.

Yes, once we have matured

once we grow a little older

we realize the idea of perfection…

is in the eye of the beholder.

This means we don’t have to see eye to eye 

our planets don’t need to align…

for you are free to find your own perfection

and I’m free to find mine.

Perhaps this is how it’s meant to be

the way the creator designed it

That perfection be more personal…more private

and it’s up to us to find it.

Which means…much to our amazement…

to our wonder…and surprise

we can to see perfection once we open up our eyes.

What makes this all the more special

is…no matter who we are

If we want to find perfection

We don’t have to travel very far.

THE THINGS WE CAN CONTROL

So many things in life are out of our control

We don’t control the sun, the moon,, the stars, the wind…the rain

We don’t control those moments when our heart fills up with pain.

Perhaps then while we’re alive it should be our goal

to do the best that we can do….with the things we can control.

We cannot control our past…and the future’s not always in our hands…

but we can control how we treat the animals…and how we treat the land.

We can control how we treat others…if we are unkind or humane

We can control if we cause another person’s happiness…or pain.

If we make treating the animals, 

the land around us 

and people 

with compassion as our goal….

It becomes much easier to accept those things that are out of our control.

For they will be there to support us through the uncontrollable winds and rain

and they will be there when we need them most…when our hearts fill up with pain.

BUTTERFLY LESSONS

As I watched her perch upon a flower then quickly flutter by

I was reminded of the lessons I have learned from watching butterflies.

I’ve learned that change is not a bad thing…butterflies have taught me this

for every day we are alive is a metamorphosis.

I’ve learned that looks can be deceiving…for butterflies silently shout

how there is beauty inside each of us just waiting to get out.

I’ve learned there must be a higher power…

as I’ve watched butterflies who’ve found a way

to pause every now and then, to fold their wings and pray.

Butterflies have taught me time is short…

which means from the moment our wings unfurl…

we should do our best…to add beauty to the world.

Finally butterflies have taught me to find wonder in the tiniest of things

for what else is a butterfly but a flower that’s grown wings.

I will never stop watching butterflies…to them I shall always return…

for they have so much more to teach…and I…so much more to learn.

HER FAVORITE TIME

She loved bedtimes with her daughter

reading her a story

listening to her ask the Lord her soul to keep.

She loved tucking her in

kissing her good night

and watching as she nodded off to sleep…

And when the room was filled with darkness

save one errant moonlight beam

she loved to linger in the doorway

and listen to her dream.

BASEBALL

BASEBALL

Walking by an empty stadium I was reminded the other day

of when we took our children to the ball park to watch grown men at play.

We were in the stands with our baseball caps on when I heard my daughter exclaim,

“Daddy, this is boring...what do you like about this game?”

As I handed each of them a hot dog, with ketchup and mustard on their buns

I could have explained the rules of the game, what are strikes and balls and runs.

I could have taken that opportunity surrounded by my children and my wife

to explain how baseball, when we think about it, can teach us about life.

I could have pointed out although it is the individual player’s name we scream

how baseball teaches people to work together as a team.

That baseball teaches humility…that sometimes you’ll hear cheers…

and sometimes you’ll hear boos 

That some games you are going to win…and some…you’re going to lose.

That baseball teaches perseverance, determination, tenacity and grit

how you shouldn’t worry when you strike out for you’ll get another chance to hit.

I wanted to tell them down whatever paths they choose…no matter where they roam

When they round the bases to look for us…we’ll be waiting for them at home.

These are the thoughts that ran through my mind as we sat in the park that day

wearing our caps, eating our hot dogs…watching grown men at play.

“What do I like about baseball,” I said smiling for the answer suddenly I knew

“What I like best about baseball is sharing it with you”.

Our children are all grown up now…time moves on…and that’s a shame

because I never got to explain to them…the intricacies of the game.

A PECULIARITY IN TIME

It is said time moves ever onward…at a slow and steady climb…

but there is a wrinkle in that theory…a peculiarity in time.

The time that’s measured by our clocks marches forward…absolutely 

The time that ages our once young bodies advances resolutely.

But there is a category, a kind of time that plays by different rules

defying all the lessons we once were taught in school.

It’s when old friends get together…for no matter how much time’s amassed

suddenly they are young again...as if time has never passed.

This is the wrinkle in the time continuum, a wrinkle all friends know

allowing them to pick up from where they left off years ago.

And for the time they’re back together…they feel a certain thrill

standing in a moment…where time is standing still…

If you want to see this wrinkle in time…it’s simple…

watch as old friends come together…then…

keep watching for the moment when they are young again.

2 OLD PIRATES

As children the two brothers were happy

their imaginations flowed with ease

when, in a box and a basket, they were pirates

who sailed the seven seas…

Amassing a great fortune

a treasure so plentiful and grand

and when they discovered a secret cove

they buried it in the sand

They took only what they needed

of the jewelry and the gold

vowing one day to return

perhaps when they were old.

Return to reclaim their fortune

their treasure chest so grand…

the one they left when they were children

buried in the sand…

The two young pirates have grown old now

as they remember now…with ease

when in a box and a basket they were pirates

who sailed the seven seas…

And they smile as they both realize…

their memories are strong….

and the treasure they amassed when they were children

has been with them all along.

DEAR GOD

Dear God,

It’s Billy, have you got a minute…I apologize for bothering you

with the entire universe to look after…

I imagine you have a lot to do

But have you checked in on the Earth lately…

perhaps from way up there it’s hard to tell

but I think if you look hard enough

you’ll see we’re not doing very well.

I know you must be happy with all the love down here

and that is a reason to celebrate…

but as happy as you are with all the love

you’ve got to be saddened by all the hate.

Which is why after church this morning 

I’m sending this prayer to you…

you see I’m afraid and confused and I’m worried

and I don’t know what else to do.

So God if you happen to have the time…

I wonder…could you to re-create….

a world that keeps the love that’s already here

but gets rid of all the hate?

I hope this isn’t too much to ask…

and I’m not even sure what kind of power you’ve got…

but if you could make this one prayer come true

it sure would mean a lot.

And if you make this dream come true…

in church will I never miss another Amen…

and I’ll make you this promise:

I’ll never bother you again!

Well I have to go now…

My mom says there are a lot of things I have to do…

And if you’re going to get rid of everyone’s hate

I imagine so do you.

Your friend,

Billy

2 HEARTS

They built a wall to keep them apart

forgetting love will not be dismayed…

for despite the barriers set out to stop them

their 2 hearts found a way.

MY MUSEUM

I love to walk in my museum…filled with music…filled with art

It is soothing to the body, 

to the mind, the soul….the heart.

If I choose to walk in the evening…or before the dawns first light

when I look up I see Van Gogh has painted another Starry Starry Night.

If fog has covered my museum at the beginning of the day

I walk through muted colors and impressions of Monet.

The more I walk in my museum…I never really know

was that a Da Vinci…or a Renoir…or a Michelangelo?

As I walk I may see an autumn leaf, a raindrop a snowflake or a butterfly….

for only in my museum is artwork falling from the sky?

Unlike most museums where art is framed in a permanent display

my museum is ephemeral…temporary…it changes subtly every day.

And, courtesy of the birds, the crickets and the wind whistling through the trees

wherever you go in my museum you’re followed by symphonies.

What’s really great about my museum…

beside how every day in it is new…

is how you can see once you step outside…

it’s your museum too.

IF WE COULD SPEAK THEIR LANGUAGE

Flowers have a language they share with all the trees.

Sometimes you can hear their voices carried on the breeze

Flowers speak from on the ground…

trees from up above

sharing words of kindness, 

words of compassion

words of acceptance

words of love.

If you listen closely to their voices never will you hear

words of anger

words of hate

words to cause another fear.

As I listen to the language of us humans 

carried on the breeze…

I pray for the day when we are as fluent

as the flowers and the trees. 

HOW DID SHE DO IT?

He often asks himself how she did it…

what subtleties did she employ

to help him find his happiness

to help him discover his joy.

WHERE LOVE BEGINS

I am in awe of silence…in her perplexity…

There is both a beauty and a mystery in her tranquility.

Have you ever sat in silence with someone you love…

or hoped a silent moment would never end?

For it’s in moments such as these when silence is your friend.

Have you ever stood hypnotized in the midst of a silent snow?

or watched clouds silently changing shape as they’ve drifted to and fro?

Have you ever felt the awkward silence that accompanies a first date?

or tiptoed through the silence when you arrived home a little late?

And there is a type of silence no one should never miss…

The silence one experiences…the moment before a kiss.

In the aftermath of a death, the ultimate silent tragedy,

have you ever felt the silence become your enemy?

Sadness arrives in silence, for there is a silent moment when...

you realize you will never see or hear or touch that person you loved…again.

And even though they may be gone…it matters not how many years

it is in the silence of our loneliness where we cry our deepest tears?

But silence doesn’t stay our enemy for long…she soon reminds us she’s our friend

for it is in the silence of our slumber…when our heart begins to mend.

And soon we’re comfortable again in silence…content because we know

it’s in the silence of the evening when trees begin to grow?

It’s in the silence of the morning that the flowers create their blooms

and the miracle of life begins in the silence of a mother’s womb.

So the next time you’re sitting quietly with the one you love

or on a silent stroll….

remind yourself where love begins…

in the silence of your soul.

TWO OLD PHOTOS

I was leafing through my mom’s old bible that’s sat on our shelf since she died

when two pieces of paper floated out and landed by my side

Two old photos I hadn’t seen before…photos I never knew she had…

Photos of two soldiers…one my mom and one my dad.

On the back of the two photos…five words in faded grey

written in each other’s hand…’you take my breath away”

Photos they must have given each other before war tore them apart

Photos that, while in their youth, showed the essence of their hearts. 

I imagine they kept these photos with them…to help see them through the war

I imagine they kept them near their hearts…like so many soldiers had before.

And when they returned home again…safe, secure…unharmed…

the pictures were not needed for they had each others arms…

So they found a final resting place- their job was now complete..

in a page in Mom’s old bible…until they landed at my feet…

Two photos from a time I didi not know them…when their love was new and strong

Two photos that…after reading them…I tucked back where they belong.

Perhaps it’s a bit egotistical of me…and certainly it’s wrong

but I never thought much about my parents lives before I came along…

But reading the back of those two photos…

from another time…

another day…

made me smile for a moment 

as they took my breath away.

HER ARMS

Her eyes have a loving glow to them…her smile a certain charm

but the best place to feel her love is inside our mother’s arms.

From the first time we step into them they fit around us like a glove

providing us with all we need…

when all we need…

is love

And showing us, as we grow older, 

anytime 

and anywhere

when we step back into our mother’s arms...

we’ll find some comfort there.

One day we’ll return the favor.

We’ll know when…and where

when she steps into our open arms and finds some comfort there.

And she will feel in that moment

how our arms fit around her like a glove

providing her with all she needs

when all she needs…

is love.

And when she’s no longer with us

when we close our eyes we'll find…

we still can feel that warm embrace…

her arms have left behind.