A toss and deft flick of the wrist
Catch in the pan if you can
Watch bubbles rise golden
A sight to whet the appetite
Edges crisped just so, no burning
Though we know the way dreams olden
can be flattened, battered down
Yet still we ponder ~ pancakes
steam-hissing, perfect brown,
capture our attention; we resist
a turn to ash, now relenting
Because hope belongs to man
This little poem is part of a selection I will be offering here on an ad-hoc basis during the season of Lent, during which I aim to see the sacred speaking into the secular.
Life often bends us sideways but we can always turn toward the Light of God’s presence, be held safe, begin again, allow hope to rise and dreams to be born anew as God directs us toward His best.