Preach

Do not preach
with many words,
but with your empty, earth-worn hands,
held out in welcome,
or in the soft wrinkles around your eyes,
smiling with kindness.
Let there be some hope
in your being,
so that even in your silence,
or helplessness,
you may be more help than you know.
Stand for goodness, and truth.
Be a safe place for children.
Sing sometimes, or a lot.
Laugh often, and be grateful.
Pray
that your life will
preach.

--Timothy Haut, March 14, 2016

Stones

High on the mountain flank
a cold mist paints sky and earth
the same icy gray.
Still, something urges us on
as we trudge wet, unyielding rocks
in search of a promised peak
from which, today,
nothing will be seen.
We would be lost altogether
but for the stone cairns
marking an unseen trail.
We ever climb for summits,
we who live in lowlands,
and we would be failed, fallen creatures,
uncertain of our steps,
robbed of even a little glimpse of glory,
except for our cairns:
the stones left
by those better climbers
who have gone before us.
"Come on, higher," they say.
"The view is beautiful.
Step well. Stay together.
You will be fine."

--Timothy Haut, March 13, 2016

Imagine

We imagine
 what might be
 and then live for it.
 We imagine
 one more hug from a son
 who is gone.
 We imagine peace,
 a world where all are welcome.
 We imagine tender things,
 rain and flowers,
 a kind word, forgiveness,
 a long restful night.
 We imagine
 because that is what we do,
 Because we are spirits, dreamers.
 We draw deep from the well
 of the heart.
 We see simple things,
 like the egret in the marsh,
 catching the morning light.
 We don't imagine eating frogs
 from the bottom of a pond.
 We imagine wings.


--Timothy Haut, March 12, 2016

Wild

We have fettered
this wild world,
shaped it to our use,
laid roads, built houses,
mined its secret stores,
circled it with our machines,
tamed it enough
that we forget to see
how terrible and beautiful
its wild weathers and creatures
can be.
But perhaps a crack of lightning
shatters the night,
or a tiny mosquito sends us running.
Or walking at dawn
on a country road,
a fox crosses our path,
stares at us for a moment,
calls to us across the mysterious border
of our mild and managed nature.
Then a thrill of recognition
may stir deep inside us,
help us to remember,
for a moment,
how beautiful
and terrible
is the wild
in us.

--Timothy Haut March 11, 2016

Drink

Here
in the backcountry
of a universe of cosmic fire,
is this blue world.
Water surges here
in vast oceans,
tumbles in tiny streams and great rivers,
waits to flow from glacial ice,
falls from a thundering sky.
And yet so many of us
have none, or little,
thirst for a cupful
to baptize a field, or a child.
And others, arid of spirit,
yearn for more of everything,
but fail in gratitude
for this simple, holy thing.
That there is water
to drink.

--Timothy Haut, March 20, 2016

Eyes

What are they saying,
these eyes?
They are looking at me.
They are looking into me,
asking me to notice:
I am here.
I am alive.
I am afraid.
I am curious.
I am ready to play.
I am hungry for love.
Don't turn your eyes away.
See my heart.
See me.

--Timothy Haut, March 9, 2016

Sit

The rocking chair collapsed
under me,
pieces of old wood strewn
in every direction,
and I, on the floor,
with kindling all around.
To sit
can be a dangerous thing.
Still, it serves us well
to find a quiet place
to be,
perhaps to watch the clouds
shift shape across the sky,
or to close your eyes
and listen to nature's morning overture
before the pause, the silence
of the busy mind, at rest.
Memories bubble up,
or whispers of ideas struggling
to be born,
or the heart's deepest prayer.
Everything else may seem
to fall apart,
even the chair,
but it is usually good
just to sit,
to listen, to wait.

--Timothy Haut, March 8, 2016