nature – Jane Tawel

Listen With Your Heart — a poem

by Jane Tawel

Listen With Your Heart — a poem

By Jane Tawel

April 12, 2021

I don’t know why the birds keep singing, but they do.

When every thing is horrible. It’s true.

My mind is on the negative, transfixed.

The world is broken and our minds up-mixed.

I wake up every day and burn the wick down,

Before my feet have even touched the hard ground.

But little bird is on a branch a-sway,

With ne’er a worry of the coming day.

If God is in the Heavens, He’s in birds, too.

And that would mean, that God’s in me and you.

Oh, listen to what can be heard, unseen.

And lessons from the birds and creatures, glean.

There is a cosmic beauty, love, and grace,

In every feather, furry paw, and face.

We soldier on, when we should really dance.

And let the glory of the world entrance.

Today I will from mindful prison part,

And listen to the whole world, with my heart.

©Jane Tawel 2021

I Had Forgotten How to Live – a poem

Bird

“Bird” by CollegeRocker is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

I Had Forgotten How to Live

By Jane Tawel

March 12, 2020

I had, too long, forgotten how to live.

And letting Time control my thoughts,

And taking more than I could give,

I had forgotten what I aught

pay heed to more than I should not.

And then one day while waiting

And slow-drip coffee, hating,

I stood beside my own back door

And heard a bird song, me, implore,

to stop and listen, look, and find,

because to beauty, I’d been blind.

There, just there, in my back yard,

Were little birds, like crossing guards,

Directing me to safety in,

The joy that could be found within,

The world at large, and lives at small,

If I would simply sense it all.

I think I hadn’t really lived,

Or taken time to sense and breathe,

Not since I was a little kid,

And for lost years, I now did grieve.

But rather than waste one more day,

Determined I to savor,

To listen well, and learn to play,

And find a Mother’s favor.

Oh, I’d forgotten how to hear,

And how to truly see.

But though I wasted life and love,

Life still believed in me.

In Nature — A Poem

In Nature

By Jane Tawel

September 2019

In figs and pears

You oft appear,

And like the rose,

You rose

Despite the thorns.

What all I lack

In yon lilacs,

I find the glory;

As morning glories

Seek the same

Of the sun.

I too find rest,

Forever blessed

In The Son.

In bird and song

And honey bee throng

Like sparrows tended

By Your strong hand,

In sky and earth

In seas and land

You reign, You reign, You reign. . .

And like the rain

You fall on all

To grow the good

Among the weeds.

In winter mulch

Alive, all, much,

New life.

First, we die

Then rise to bloom.

Temporal as a weed,

But as The Rose of Sharon,

In death with You, Eternal.

If He Clothes

A Poem

by Jane Tawel

August 11, 2017

Nature’s indiscreet ignoble ignorance

Revels before The Glory.

Lacking dignity, She indecorously decorates in bold immodesty;

Celebrating unselfishly in fuschia-crimson-midnight-gold-cerulean-purple-aqua-pink-cerise-ecru-limegreen-blue-chiffon-mustard-ochra-red-chocolate-chartreuse-denim-puce!

Creation greenishly proclaims “there is no self outside God’s Glory!”

In this de-meaning comes true meaning.

In this indignity lives dignified identity in Son of Sun.

In this un-nobling comes ennobled rampageous God-image.

In freely- clothed nature’s requited love comes uproarious beauty.

How much more…

How much more….

If Our Parent-Creator robes these in their tumultuous foolish nakedness

How much more should we exude our blooming grace?

If Fairest of Them All

Vestures with glory and awe-inspiring miracles of prismatic growth

How much more The Three yearn to en-robe me?

If I but dance with nothing to hide my love

Will not my barren heart be seeded in new life

as David’s was?

If I de-mean my bleak self

in worship of Their Artful Meaning;

If my dour, dreary soul will paint praise

razzle-dazzled do-see-doed

with showy palm -fronded-joy;

Then I will dance

like David did

Before the Lord

as all Creation gawked in awe.

But if I do not cry lushly out

nor dance against the muteness

of my plain pride,

The very rocks–most ugly and controlling of us all–

will riot-up in worship,

kaleidoscoping their praise

for those with ears to hear and eyes to see.

If ugly rocks will dance,

I can only imagine what those crazy flowers will do!

Antelope_Valley_Poppy_Preserve

Matthew 6:28 And why do you worry about clothes. Consider the flowers in the fields, see how they grow; They neither labor nor spin.

Psalm 96: 11 & 12 Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea resound, and all that is in it. Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them; let all the trees of the forest sing for joy.

2 Samuel 6:14 “And David danced before the Lord with all his might.

Luke 19:40 “I tell you, if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”

by Jane Tawel

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