"Nestled"

(Resting in the love of our Father
On October 13, 2010).

Tenderly nurturing the tiny babe
Enveloped in warm embrace
Gentle comfort as he sings
Delight streaming from his face

Cocooned in his mighty hands
Protected from all harm
None can dismiss his love
Nor snatch me from his arm

In him I am secure
Nestled in his grace
Mercy wrapped all around
His peace my resting place

"Progress"

(Pounded out on the evening
Of October 1, 2010).

Melding the ancient with the modern
Creating a new work, a fresh perspective
The ancient stones arranged in a linear grid
The craft of antiquity, sculptures of marble
And bronze, now portraying in ways anew
Universal human truths newfangled
Contemporary issues and obsessions
Techniques, materials, myths of old
Recombined, rethought, reimagined

Refusing to simply duplicate
Nor desiring to merely replicate
But seeking to uniquely create
A personal interpretation, expression
Seemingly slow
Still, serene past
Juxtaposed with the rushing, dashing,
Moving, jolting, hustling, steam engine
Drive of the future—or rather the present—

Desiring a slower time
A time of refreshment
Still constantly pressing forward
Relaxation
Continually pushing onward
A quieter time
Barreling ahead into the unknown
A return to the garden
Ever enticed by the siren call of “Progress”

"Image"

(In reflection on the Gerome exhibit
At the Getty Center in September 2010).

Imagining an ancient ruin
A resurrection of sorts
Recreating a distant land
A period far beyond our own
A culture only partially preserved
A people few have understood

Seeking to see as they
To feel as they felt
To explore the exotic
To discover the universal--
The human

Traits and tendencies surpassing periods
Transcending time and circumstances
Reaching beyond borders and boundaries
To find ourselves, our place in the cosmos
And to discern the Hand of God
The Image of the Almighty Beauty

"Spouts"

(Composed at the Getty Center
In September 2010).

Nestled ‘neath the stairs
Alone at a table for four
Listening to the bubbling
Water pouring from dozens
Of spouts in the fountain
Gushing day and night
Always in the same spot
Time after time
Constantly flowing
Perfectly in sync
In one long row
As marching soldiers
Never turning to the side
Yet standing side by side
No interaction
No relationship
Just spouts shooting
Springs of recycled water
Always kept pristine
Remaining untouchable
Save by the curious toddler
Or the starry-eyed lover