Jacob's Children

 

She said it was a shawl of many hues,

Like Joseph’s coat, a gift to be bestowed,

Until between her busy hands emerged

A thing as soft and pure as love can make

When spirits do not do the casting on

And as she teased the needles through the yarn

The green and blue and silver flowed and fused

Down unexpected alleys colors swept

Because we live in disregard of line
The pattern is the pattern we compose

When Joseph wandered off in search of flocks

His brothers watched, and fumed, and then conspired

“Here comes the dreamer” each to other said
So prophecy is done and God revealed

When angels knit, and dreamers go afield

Spring Storm

The rain, like settled sadness,

Beat on the pool for hours

And littered it with branches

And fragments of dead flowers

The pounding palled the rises

And shook the reeds and grass

And shattered the still surface

A dance of broken glass

Although the pond is shallow

It is sufficing deep

To claim a place of silence

Where waters calmly sleep