Zany Words

dis ‘n dat
pigs ‘n pie
sinned ‘n ran
‘n made em cry

down wid dem
skewer dem all
everone’s dusdin
aft’r da fall

pay da tab
‘n hogs a’fry
everone’s mask
‘n everone’s lie

criss ‘n cross
‘n big ‘n still
twixt dem two
he paid da bill.

Petra O. Hefner

“The reality, however, is found in Christ.” Colossians 2:17

Xanthic and Xylophone

Xanthic is sunshine,
cheering warmth
in winter.

Xanthic is hope,
tattered ribbons
on trees.

Xanthic is caution,
looming danger
ahead.

Xanthic is company,
a complimentary mix
on a palette.

Xanthic is exciting,
daffodils budding
in spring.

Xanthic is fresh,
lemons squeezed
and sweetened.

Xanthic is pretending,
a counterfeit
of gold.

Xanthic is sharp,
a distressing pulse
of light.

Xanthic is deep,
a penetrating peace
in a painting.

Xanthic is blithe,
blest encouragements
for the blues.

Oh xylophone, oh xylophone,
I loved you very well.
Those shiny silver bars did ring
the happiest tings, but now do tell,
oh xylophone, oh xylophone,
how you didst fill this head
with music of such happy lore
as I had only known before
these childish joys have fled!

Petra O. Hefner

Wings

“But they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles.” Isaiah 40:31


That I should fly and feel such wings
rise over my moan to where the sparrow sings
of seeing streams and hills and even sparks of heaven,
my view no longer small or on my self engraven.

My woe though deep is purposefully clear,
hopeless and dank only below this mounting fear-
Lord raise me up to where the wheat waves like the sea
from palest gray to ripest golden glee.

And I shall see Thy hand upon all things,
working and weaving and testing all thy wings-
each spot, each mar, each tear of each beloved heir,
each bruised and broken wing repair!

Each waiting heart that hopes in Him
shall rise over all to where the sparrows sing
of crystal streams and gilded hills, by God’s own word engraven,
and our faith shall rise full-sail into His promised haven.

Petra O. Hefner