DANCING WITH THE DAFFODILS

William Wordsworth

(Born April 7, 1770; died April 23, 1850)

THE DAFFODILS

I wondered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Outdid the sparking waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed--and gazed--but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

CREATION SHOUTING

WATERCOLOR SKY

It had been one of the hardest of days.

One where faith had hid it's life-giving glow.

I turned, and something caught,

Not just my outer eye, but the inner.

Peering through the window, it manifested, 
Painted above:

A glorious Watercolor Sky.

Moving as in a dream

I floated through the glass door, standing, 

Breathing ceasing

As above and all around me 
The Creator Artist

Of all that speaks beauty

Took a broad brush,

Wetting the sky with His tears.

Then, gently touching soft palette colors

 Pinks, purples, yellows

Let them flow, one into the other

Backlit by a sinking sun--

Illuminating, then transforming,

Lifting to celestial heights.

A gift, speaking gently:

Love flowing down

Falling soft, 

Sinking deep.

Just as that Day

He climbed

He hung

He bled red vermilion

Mixed with water from

A heart broken,

Outpoured in brilliant love

Splashing color vibrant.

A gift, unspeakably lovely, profound;

Given to all and every, who

Looking, seeking, finding, seeing:

Love gashed and running

Down the sky of time.

The heavens now reminding, 

Even as the night descending

Hides His glory from the earthly eye;

But the stars, in all their splendor
In the blackness do perform,

Shout to me in my aloneness

Comfort on this worldly stage.

Shout His Eternal Coming!

Shout His unspeakable Gift given!

Reflected and remembered

In the softness of
 A Watercolor Sky.

Written 

February 3, 2012

Gold Canyon, Arizona

"The voice of my beloved! Behold he cometh leaping 

upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills.  My beloved

is like a roe or a young hart: behold, he standeth behind

our wall, he looketh forth at the windows, shewing

himself through the lattice." (Song of Soloman 2:8.9)

TRIBUTE TO THE EAR

HIDDEN, YET REVEALED

A TRIBUTE TO A PART OF CHRIST'S BODY:  THE EAR,

AND TO THOSE WITH THE MODEST GIFT OF LISTENING

There are those who listen

While they in silence wait;

The outer and inner ear, as well as the heart

Are tuned to things not seen,

Self forgotten.

Just as the Master bends low,

His Fatherly ear always open,

Listening to the wounded creature who cries,

Uttered or hurting, muted;

Articulated or staunchly secluded.

It has been said, speech is 

"A faculty given to man to conceal his thoughts"

(Talleyrand).

But you look beyond, you always look deeper:

Things hidden, these also seen by the Master.

You seem to fish for hidden pearls,

Flashes of light long concealed,

The mirror of the soul now revealing; 

For a crusty exterior gently exposed
And pried open, reveals a treasure worth seeking.

Oh my friend, as I watch you today and I listen,

You show me the workings of mystery:

Love throws the net, patience the bait;

While you listen and wait,

Ear bending near, 

 Unknowing, you follow The Master.

"And if the ear should say, 'Because I am not an eye, I am not of the
body,' is it therefore not of the body?...But now God has set the
members, each one of them, in the body just as He pleased."
(I Corinthians 12:16,18)

Written while watching my husband and a friend
demonstrate their particular giftings

WAITING, TREMBLING

6th Century Eucharist Chalice From Antioch
Courtesy Metropolitan Museum of Art

EUCHARISTEO, A POEM

(Greek for Grateful Thanksgiving)

The mystery of death leads to

The Mystery of Life

Answered in Christ rising:

Silence in Heaven,

Wings folded, faces covered,

Extreme humility crushing

serpent pride.

Eden's locked gate opened,

Waiting for denoument 

Of the sons of God.

Man rushing, but to where?

Narrow or wide the bed I lie in,

When I wander, hedge me

So that I may

Strip off self,

Put on Thee

So to rise,

Falling Feetward,

Bowing Godward,

Adoration filling soul.

Filled, now overflowing

Eucharisteo is my song;

Kaleidoscope of Glory

'Gash gold-vermillion'*

Over all Creation

That is

Waiting,

Trembling,

For the promised Face-to-face.

   Michèle Elizabeth Crawford

                                           June 15, 2011

                                      *    From “The Windhover” by

                                                               Gerard Manley Hopkins
                                                                                   

                                                               

SNOW: FOE OR FRIEND?

STOPPING BY WOODS

By Robert Frost

              Whose woods these are I think I know. 

              His house is in the village, though;

              He will not see me stopping here

              To watch his woods fill up with snow.

              My little horse must think it queer

              To stop without a farmhouse near

              Between the woods and frozen lake

              The darkest evening of the year.

              He gives his harness bells a shake

              To ask if there is some mistake.

              The only other sound's the sweep

              Of easy wind and downy flake.

              The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

              But I have promises to keep,

              And miles to go before I sleep,

              And miles to go before I sleep.

For a wonderful reading of this poem, complete with sound
affects, go to this link: http://youtube/nie5dGD6OQA.  Sorry, I
don't know how to link this, so you will have to copy/paste.

BAPTISM:  FROM THE SHALLOWS
TO THE DEPTHS

For many years I felt my assignment from God

Had been to float in a birdbath,

Enjoying the beauty of the sky

But longing for a wider experience

And view of His creation.

He has now taken me and submerged my being

In His great and vast ocean

Where there is no bottom nor end.

I can swim freely and enjoy the beauty

Of creatures innumerable

Who seem to have anticipated my arrival.

The waters which receive me are warm and welcoming

And have an eternal quality;

They change me while remaining the same.

The rays from the Son shine to the depths

Giving Life to all they touch.

I have only begun to search these Life-giving waters,

But the more I embrace them

The more I find to explore and revel in.

The awareness has dawned that I have come Home

And the Giver of Life is at the center of this new world,

Holding it all together

With the Word of His mouth.

To my amazement

My tears of repentance yielding joy

Have mingled with the very waters I am being baptized in,

Producing life forevermore and endless praise

To the One who called me to Himself

And translated me

Into the depths of His love.

Christ of the Abyss


Written shortly after entering the Orthodox Church, 2006