To China
Past islands green & pleasant sailed;
my heart on billows rose!
Each passing junk's fanned canvas hailed
sentimental repose.
Our ship did glide on sea of gold,
height'ning my desire
For God's great plan to now unfold
on Chariot of Fire!
I see
I see the sea.
An endless surge toward the horizon
that moves the spirit to imagine.
Take a moment. Imagine your sails
catch the wind and carry you
to a place where new possibilities
flow.
Pick one and go!
The Mediterranean Sun
As the sun sets and lands on the shore,
which earlier was storm-tossed but now exudes charm,
the boys are in bed and the dishes are done
and the thoughts of Monday don’t yet cause alarm.
The peace of God has quieted the town
that was filled with horns and bells and more.
Join us here now, though far away,
and feel the peace that’s coming ashore.
The Return
When I first came to China’s shores,
twas to a time that lives no more
except in what the poets write
about the decades lost to night.
And once again as I step forth
into that land where history’s worth
is eclipsed by what lies ahead,
I scratch and shake my greying head.
And when I leave those jasmine hills
and lay to rest my ink and quill,
will new poets come ashore,
or has the ink been all outpoured?