i heard a bluebird singing  such a lovely tune
beneath the stars so bright and the silver moon
a lovely melody with such a lovely beat
it filled my heart with love and swept me of my feet

every note in time every note in tune
with his gentle voice i began to swoon
it made me feel serene and so very calm
a lovely song of love filled with so much charm

then he flew away in to the midnight sky
flapped his wings so gently as he said goodbye

Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory—
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved’s bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.

Fill the gaps of my heart dear Lord,
embrace me with your loving word.
Help me stitch my broken soul
and again we’ll make them whole.

With every pain that I endure
it is You that makes me pure.
And when times get tough
Your love is enough.

J.H.

there was a little cat of the furry sort
and he used to dream he was an astronaut.

climbing in his rocket heading to the stars
landing down on jupiter then flying on to mars.

he could float in space and float around all day
all along the universe  and across the milky way.

he had a little suit and and big space hat
he was a proper astronaut a proper spaceman cat.

when his dream was over he woke in his bed
the thoughts of being an astronaut still running through his head.

797

By my Window have I for Scenery
Just a Sea—with a Stem—
If the Bird and the Farmer—deem it a “Pine”—
The Opinion will serve—for them—

It has no Port, nor a “Line”—but the Jays—
That split their route to the Sky—
Or a Squirrel, whose giddy Peninsula
May be easier reached—this way—

For Inlands—the Earth is the under side—
And the upper side—is the Sun—
And its Commerce—if Commerce it have—
Of Spice—I infer from the Odors borne—

Of its Voice—to affirm—when the Wind is within—
Can the Dumb—define the Divine?
The Definition of Melody—is—
That Definition is none—

It—suggests to our Faith—
They—suggest to our Sight—
When the latter—is put away
I shall meet with Conviction I somewhere met
That Immortality—

Was the Pine at my Window a “Fellow
Of the Royal” Infinity?
Apprehensions—are God’s introductions—
To be hallowed—accordingly—

Cold fingers walk
     the ley lines of your veins.
***** dashed across your bedsheets,
     watercolour stains leak in your eyes.
Dead lilies in a cup of coffee,
     your world upside-down in a cracked glasses lens.

I only prayed to the moon after it rose beyond
my window, the white sill a frame for waning
crescents and gibbouses--milk-drowned gods
dripping stars as they climbed skeleton branches--
some nights resting behind flood-heavy clouds.
People say the moon has a face, but
I have yet to see it sneer at my sins even as it tastes
my ocean-drop tears, evaporated into sky-bound veils,
brushed along the shadowed craters ...

The moon itself bemoaned imperfections in midnight
wind creaking branch against branch until I woke
slow from sleep--sad light staining my walls
pallid, pale as my own skin, glowing in muted
television shows left running while I dreamt
the moon spilled a star between my ribs--
dim luminescence radiating warm,
and the star, seeping through my pores, thawed
the ice I had prayed to melt in the first place.