I Believe in Christmas Eve

I Believe in Christmas Eve

I Believe in Christmas Eve

I Believe in Christmas Eve

The spirit here I think I see,
Reflected from the Christmas tree,
Across the crisp December snow –
A beacon of security.

Watching from my frosted window,
I think that, finally, I know
Why I believe in Christmas Eve –
That light that makes a pine tree glow.

Safe in this silent-night reprieve
From a troubled world, I believe
In peace on earth, good will to all.
Here, it is easy to achieve.

Watching herald angels fall,
As snow beyond my glistening wall,
I wait for Santa Claus to call.
And like a child, I feel so small.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

 

On Becoming a Golden Statue

On Becoming a Golden Statue

On-Becoming-A-Golden-Statue

On Becoming a Golden Statue

What else can I be
Through eternity?
I am only me.
Where else can I flee?
Shall I make a run
To the sun,
To the source of the pun,
And erase my memory, take away my me and you –
Abracadabra, become something new,
Hum, hum, hum,
Come apart, part the sum?

Buddha, I am growing old.
Turn my brain to solid gold,
So I can see
Eventually,
Peer through a clouded why
Until I
Can’t feel anymore,
And wash ashore.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

Child of Earth

Child of Earth

Child of Earth

Child of Earth

Child of earth, cultivator of the field,
Kneeling in worship on the garden floor,
Immeasurable by words is your yield –
The nature of the nature you adore.
With an essence of goodness, you are sealed,
Your spirit sure as endless evermore.
Golden barley in the wisdom of age
Bows low in humility to the sage
Who knows well that amongst all living things
Creatures wherein noblest virtues show,
Are ever in a reverence of life found.
From a wholesome plot, a wholesome crop springs!
The purest flowers and the sweetest herbs grow
In the richest soil, nearest to the ground.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

Fading Alone

Fading Alone

Fading Alone

Fading Alone

Darkness traces the lines of my forehead,
With shadows draped before these fading eyes
As sins that no absolution might shed,
Nor penance while in this mortal disguise.

I plead guilty to the crime of being,
To the city beyond my windowpane,
With a blank gaze silently decreeing
The candlelight of all souls lit in vain,

Seeking resolution through amity
Beyond the glass reflection of my face,
(If only my loneliness to postpone)
Watching the beacons of humanity –

Like dying embers in a common space,
Burning together, yet fading alone.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

Hay-Hauler

Hay-Hauler

Hay Hauler

Hay-Hauler

I will remember you, boy man of years ago,
In the last lavender glimmer of summer day,
Walking out of the back field in a golden glow,
Wearing the perfume of sweat and newly-baled hay.

I will recall your thoughts as you looked behind you,
Beyond farm and fences to the wandering sun,
Wondering what would be, years after you were through,
And if time would still remember what you had done.

~ Daniel F Mitchell

Of Counting Sunbeams

Of Counting Sunbeams

Counting Sunbeams

Of Counting Sunbeams

I count the sunbeams of golden noon,
Sowing glory upon my outstretched hand –
My form of mud, of dust, of crumbling sand.
Perhaps I reap a swathe of harvest moon.

As distant fantasies of my childhood,
Upon the angel-winged breeze I ride,
United, as one with evil and good.
In the reflection of stars, I abide.

I distill all feeling into one breath,
Divinity upon the autumn air.
I justify the weight of looming death,
Abiding here, yet being everywhere.

I sing today the song of all I see.
I appraise the worth of my conception –
Basking in the effulgent mystery,
Of being a moment of perception.

With uplifted voice, today I refrain –
Should tomorrow’s chance never come again.

~ Daniel F Mitchell