When she was just a pup
April 29, 2011
Since her lovely face adorns this blog, I will include this poem from her very early puppy days. Killarney is now 2 and a half years old! Hard to believe.
Getting up in the night with puppy
Out in the rich blue of a starred night
I am watching icy feather-drift
down from his basket hung from Orion’s arm
a new puppy thrusts her nose
into powdery cold and comes up white
ears flopping, tail high, amber
against the crystal flakes we push through,
I in my sheepskin boots and she in her God-given
teddy bear plush
she snaps at snowflakes
down the next path filling up with snow
this is not a wood
still there is no other sound but the sighing
of the wind and the crackling of the wires
and far away, a dog barks to inquire
about the new arrival
I have no other
words for the faint falling curtain, icycles
like a Christmas garland of blown glass
no words for the silent vigil
I keep for the world–
the moon gazing fondly on us
It’s all right now
You can turn over and fall back to sleep
Father and I and this new puppy will keep
watch with the moonlight
in a backyard at three a.m.
Hush now
It’s just another city garden
filling up with snow
it’s just another promise I have to keep
not long before I sleep
House of God
April 28, 2011
One evening a friend of ours shared how God touched him in his lowest moment. As he walked down a city street, a small boy ran up and held out a flower. When my friend knelt to receive it, he was suddenly aware, like Jacob, that this was none other than “the house of God.” When I read Genesis 28, I am in awe of how God comes to us in unexpected places.
House of God
After the dream of the angels climbing the ladder to Heaven …Jacob was afraid and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of Heaven.” Genesis 28:17
The house of God
sometimes rises
from under our feet
enclosing us
in holy spaces
while we walk
a dawn-hushed beach
a village foot-path,
negotiate a snarl of traffic,
tramp homeward at dusk
Though it may burst in
with a shout, a roar
more often, it drops a pebble
into the well
while we, like Jacob awakening,
hush to feel its ripples wash the night
Copyright ©2005 by Judith Frost