peter howe poetry

Sometimes Grace

Sometimes grace explodes, a blast of bliss,

the hit of a drug and you think maybe this

will last for ever, is what life really is.

Other times, grace lands disregarded,

a seed in damp earth quietly rooting,

and before you know it, branches are spreading,

leaves of contentment shelter the heart,

the green of acceptance turning light

into life, the joy of existing, while

a pillar of oak stands at your centre.

God's Bucket

If thankfulness for this dear life

rich with the wealth of ample living

rosy the health of simple living

joy in the love of even one other

strong in the love of even oneself

safe in the love of that which gives life –

if this does not rise, a well within,

then quietly sit and with God’s bucket

haul it up: practise the work of gratitude.

Soon it bubbles and surges – here it comes

sparkling – inundates, irrigates, floods

the glad fields, opens new channels,

becomes a new habit.

The page psalm of myself is an ongoing exploration, a work-in-progress.

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