Duck lady

I understand, Duck Lady.

The duck lady

Across the creek

Has checked her garage

Every morning.

If my imagination is right

She misses

Her ducks

The excuse of snow

To feed them corn.

I’m sure the supply

In her garage

Is ample,

Ready for the snow

Sure to come.

I know she is praying

For snow.

I understand,

Duck Lady.

When things are different

From the way

They usually are,
We hope and pray

They will return.

The corn is in the garage.

Exciting announcements

Today's email seems particularly uninspiring.  Even the email I have asked to receive on a daily basis... the inspirational kind.  Then there is the email that promises exciting announcements, or the one that offers me a special deal on a haunted corn maze.  OK.  I know.  Grumpy.  I am clearly not in the mood for exciting

The email subject lines

Are anything but exciting,

Even those

That declare themselves so.

I have no desire

To purchase a walk

In a haunted corn maze.

Pictures of the movie

Children of the Corn

Come to mind.

Exciting announcements

Are exciting to those

Who send them.

I exercise the delete function.

I figure if it’s truly exciting

It will come back around.

It is difficult to wonder

We dropped her off a week ago.  The conversations and texts continue,  in a different way

It is difficult

To stand aside,

Wonder what is happening

On what seems

The other side

Of the world.

But really

We are only separated

By some prairie,

A whole lot of sagebrush,

Endless fields of corn.

The same sun

Rises and sets here 

No matter the geography.

Still

It is difficult to wonder

What is happening

Beyond the sagebrush

The corn

In full view

Of those mountains.

So much promise

I see bee balm next to thistles.  My backyard is not exactly orderly.  Neither, I think, is the Kingdom in which we live.  I am grateful to Robin Currie for her sermon yesterday on the Sower and the Seed.

Rain is promised

For this week

Yet sun still appears

In patches

For short moments

Then disappears

So the promise

May be fulfilled.

I understand

The corn grows higher

This year

In the fields

Of southern Illinois.

My backyard entertains

Bee balm

Next to thistles

So many seeds sown

So much growth

So much rain

So much sun

So much promise.

In or out or in-between

I attended a clergy quiet day today.  Somehow it fit me.  I am not in the group, nor am I out of it.  Of course, as always, some might disagree.  It is Holy Week and I am not preaching, exactly, except here.  My congregation is in the world, at DCC or in my office.  I am hopeful of the job possibility which I will find out about soon.  It seems as though I am kin to the duck lady across the way.  We spread corn or words or possibilities with the sunrise.  Both of us stand on the edges.

While I am no longer

Part of the in-crowd,

I am not exactly out

Either.

I continue to stand on the edges

Yet still

Connect to the whole.

My feet are firmly planted

Somewhere recognizable.

When I speak

My voice is heard as one

From a neighboring land.

I am the duck lady

Of the Diocese.

Daily

I spread corn

From my backyard

Across the way.

Some people know my name.

Most don*t anymore.

Still I stand

On the edges.

I throw out corn

Every morning.