They came to celebrate
and knelt beside me
full of prayer.
Heads bowed and hoary gray,
their silence spoke most eloquently.

The wrinkled masks they bore
revealed a quiet dignity
and deep, deep love within.
I felt like Peter
after the catch of fish
and cried:
"Depart from me, O Lord,
I am a sinful man."

Fly-Fishing

I wonder where I'll be
when winter comes.
I hope I'm on the stream
with rainbow trout
bending my rod,
the Lord inviting me
to his favorite fishing spots.

I've been tying flies for years,
hoping He would invite me in.
This evening I will tie another
fly and wait.
He knows my deep desire,
and I know His.

MERRY CHRISTMAS

The little girl asked,
"Why are you so merry Santa?
You are old and wrinkled."

"I have an angel who is always merry,
so I am too.
My angel was present by the manger
when Jesus was born in Bethlehem.
He sings always with joy
and praises God;
he makes me merry
and fills me with joy,
and I praise God:

Ho, Ho, Ho, Jesus my Savior
is born today!
Ho, Ho, Ho, and Merry Christmas,
Jesus my Savior is born today!"
A BRIDGEGROOM'S PRAYER

Take my love Lord,
and make it holy.
Let this holiness embrace my beloved through my embraces.
Through my kisses
may she be kissed by You.
May the joy of our union
give us a taste of Your joy
as you share this moment with us.
In our dyings we shall share Your death.
In our risings we shall share Your life.
Come, Lord Jesus!

HERRING PITS

I fly over Toksook Bay,see large pits at the edgeof the sea village.They look like death,contain old logs and driftwood.

I celebrate Mass for the Eskimosand talk about death,relate the pits I had seenfrom the air.

Later I discover the pitsare the natives' source of life.They cache herring in themfrom the sea.

During the herring season,the villagers spendmany hours a day there,cleaning herring, drying themin the sun on logsand driftwood they have gathered.

They speak softlyand are filled with gratitudefor God's gift of life.

Sometimes I am dumber than dumb.

GRACIE

She asks what I'm eatingfor lunchand tells me she'llbe leaving soonfor a new job.She's going to wash police cars.

She says she likes me,I'm not nasty to her like some.She knows she is alwayswelcome at my table,asks me what kind of sandwichI have today.I show her each itemin my lunch box and she is satisfied.

She returns to her workin the kitchen.Tomorrow she willgreet me againand ask me what I'm having for lunch.I will show her each itemin my lunch boxand she will tell me she's going to a new job next weekwashing police cars.

I'm lucky to have a friendlike Gracie.

THE FUTURE

I'm into wheat bread,crunchy salad without dressing,jogging the park strip,the Heart-RunWhere will it all end?

I have turned nut-brown,lumps have formed on my body,my legs have become stumps.Dieticians pass out holy picturesof me to their students,telling them I have evolvedinto a higher life-form,"No-Cholestrol."

The students burn incense,recite their mantra,praying they too will be chosenfor this higher form of life.

ELAINE

She studies dance and smilesAs secret thoughts enter her heart,Thoughts of love, and Mr. Right.

The Lord welcomes His brideWith tenderness - a kiss - and thenHer day is filled with love.

SISTER DONA

a deep blue or mauve that penetrates,a power of peace,quiet strength and determination,loving deeds in lilac, soft, with long caring arms that encircle and enable,a warm smile of affection.

GATHER FRAGMENTS WHILE YOU MAY

Gather fragments while you mayin twelve baskets brimming,all Wordy men with dirty jeansin villages of snow and ice.

They feed you with their teary eyes,they feed you with their touch,they feed you with the bread they bless,they feed you with their blush.

And in your dyingthey feed you still,a Word at night, a Word at dawn.Gather fragments while you mayin twelve baskets brimming.

GOD ALWAYS TRAVELS IN THE FAST LANE.

They pounded on my window in Tok,so I let them in.Two sisters from the cityto do God's work they said.

I was tying flies,Bucktails, real beauties.That couldn't be God's work, of course,God always travels in the fast lane.

They asked what time Mass would be,I said eight a.m., and off they went.Hard for them to stay with onewho doesn't move in the fast lane.You can't dawdle when souls are at stake.

I went back to tying flies,Bucktails, real beauties.

A BRIDEGROOM'S PRAYER

Take my love, Lord,and make it holy.Let this holiness embrace my belovedthrough my embraces.Through my kissesmay she be kissed by You.May the joy of our uniongive us a taste of Your joyas you share this moment with us.In our dyings we shall share Your death,In our risings we shall share Your life.Come, Lord Jesus!

SWEET SISTER CLAIRE

brings Jesusto our bedside.Full of dare,cross country skier,she warms the airwith kindness and the Lord,skis into heartswith words of love and prayer,a Spirit-dove.

AUTUMN GOSPEL IN ALASKA

I hold on to each dayCrisp and cool,God's grace,His salvation touchbrushing my cheek.

The aspen and birchare shedding their blood for me.My savior will soon be here,a companion on my journey.

Touch my lips with the Host,O Priest,I am ready to fly like an eagleto the mountain of God.

Moose kneel in prayer.Caribou turn to the east,as I fly awaywith my savior.

AT EIGHTY IN A BASEMENT CHURCH

With his Sunday family,the gentle, lovely mankneels before the Lord. He is at peace.

The Word of God touches his heart,and he responds with gratitudeas he receives the bread and cup,and celebrates upstairs above the churchthis coffee and cake daywith brothers and sistersand his tiny dog.

Time for conversion and good cheer,the Reign of God is near.

ALASKAN PURGATORY

White still,Cold burn,Jaw peaks,Majesty!

My love is so tinyAnd covered With earth.

JOGGING TO JUDGMENT

I jog the park strip on ice.Only the straight pathkeeps me upright.I breathe warm air,my nose and mouthcovered with scarf.

It's not easy to seethrough foggy glasses.Sometimes I veerto the right or to the leftand am suddenly unbalanced.

Today I correctand so far have not fallen,thank God.I arrive panting.

THE WINE HAS SOURED

The first snowfall,a tapestry of white.I think of winter gamesand Robert Frost,good wine and life's embrace,friends and warm conviviality.

The snow is cold this year,gray,I have no heart for winter games.The wine has soured.I am life's outcast,bear the sting of death.My friends have found new wineto warm them,to continue their delusion.

A FRIEND IN DIALYSIS

She cultivated long agothe trick of doingall the thingsshe had to dowithout a lot of fuss.She's competent, efficient.quick,never makes me feelI should be too.

DISAPPOINTMENT

Every day I wait for a transplant.It's like waiting on the cornerfor the Rapid Transit.When it arrives, the bus is full,all the seats are taken.The driver slams the door,leaves me standing on the corner,does not acknowledgemy existence.

ESKIMO IN A HOSPITAL IN ANCHORAGE

Seeing Sam on the fifth floordoctors filling the hospital wingwith cancer and elk standingas guardians at Sam's door.

I knew Sam was preparingto make his move out of therethe elk acting queerbowing their heads and singing

Amazing Grace in Elkenese.Sam dressed to gogot down on his kneesoffered God his woeand then diedthe elk remaining at his side.

EASTER IN ALASKA

Return of the sun,Ice-glass highways,Twenty below, twenty above,Cow-moose with calves,Anticipation,Smiles Stretching Toward Life.

ONE PRIEST'S EPITAPH

Here lies a manwho was warm and loving,who prayed and read and sang,who shared his gifts with usand let us share our gifts with him,who was careful in what he saidand how he said it,who wrote poetry and liked to fish,who led us to Christ.