How does the sky blue

Why does the sky blue, beyond its deep crawling clouds?
Blue, today, a sweet and sobbing trumpet song
Each note royal, brilliant, purpling
Into the next crisp reverberating tone.
Footbone, shinbone: feel the green hill roar
Its echo--blue and gold in its deep
Rocks, its secret bones, beneath its green--
Slow earth echo rings its rocks and pockets
Hums and thrills in ear, in fingerbones,
In ankle, clavicle, in old skull seams--
The hills ringing gold cannot still
Or hold this joy
Outswelling from Your bought, forgiven saints.

Made deep with grief released, with sweet true grief

That swelling sobbing thanks 

Presses their blood against their skin.

Is sung. Unsung, bursts out in fountains. 

Stains the sky:

Purple and crimson, dearly bought--

And flushing pink as cherished as a bride--

And blue! Deep, boundless blue

Spills up, and out. Blue spouts and shouts and flows--
Joy stains the wide sky with its overflow.

Eager, tender, urgent, bold

Presses every fold of space

And spangles stars in it.
Wondering, starkissed, lovestruck--heaven
Trembles. Rings with the glorious meek song.

And see! How beautiful Your chosen bride--

How radiant unveiled. Her loved face shines

And grateful tears--like gems, like stars--

Catch and reflect Your love in sparks of light--
Like stars that sing among the boundless night.

geneva going to bed

Geneva going to bed
is a snail
(curious pause at every book or block)
ooching long inches
Leaves a peanut butter trail

drive

At last, at least, I've arrived
at disgust. These arrogant detours
half listening to You in the
back seat. Driving down
Obstinate Street again
like self willed seventeen.
Finding myself: driving circles
around You around I. My
routes reroute through treason.
Meek here at last: Direct me.
I will not ask to
know the road. To grasp
any moment but this moment.
I'm throwing the gps out of the window.
I'm done with mapquest micromanaging
With en route panicking.
I'm handing over the keys. You
know the road, this
good road.
You drive us:
Let's go home.

spring

Ten, ten, twenty! Ten and
Ten again! Birds
Chirp, burble, trill.
Excoriate! Attack!
From tree to tree
Leaves quiver with their quips
Their quotes, their quills!
It's spring. The bright sky rings with birdchat
Bubbles and gushes
Territorial? Or:
Joy, joy, joy of it!
This whistling exegetical
This twitter - twit - sing
Flight sung and wings unseen
Is doxological -

found: poem

(the merest urgent thrust of green
chartreuse, threadthin shoot
between the greasy tiles

i might have been praying
on hands and knees
on grey linoleum--
i was not praying
for a poem
or anything
but, loving, to clean
smashed breakfast eggs
the sticky film of milk spilled half wiped up

and here this tender shrill emergent
green-- what unsought words
furl silent, crescent, singing
in this?) thin thread of
Green

doxology

Praise God, from Whom all blessings crawl
Sixlegged in hungry hundreds
To trace their slow unstopping lines along the wall.
Praise Him, thirsty earth, whom He gives drink
Sweet rain, and makes your blades and pebbles teem
Surge with sixlegs. Mindless marching praise
Mindless seek entry, mindless gather crumbs.
In threes and twitching sixes, sixes
In sixes this His countless army
(each sixleg arm is numbered, known and loved)
Comes, and comes, and--crushed, crumpling, comes--
Wash walls, wash windows. Crushing, bitten, stung
Praise Him from Whom all sixlegged blessing comes.

i'm calling this one mousewifery

--Make me, oh Lord (Thy spinning wheel) complete
The course You set -- My brain as frantic as my feet
Scurries-- meanwhile I'm nibbling truths again,
Rechewing truths I nipped at, crammed in hamster cheeks--
Hurry! Hurry! Oh, my hands love busyness.
I'm back again, I'm stirring moments of disbelief
Into a deep and rank and cosey nest--
My heart's trillbeat is panic-- Restless feet
Begin the race again. Oh, I will rest
In what I have found sweet-- and this cage, this pointless race
I'm scampering again-- let me not cease
To turn the wheel on truth. To, fainting, lay it
At your feet (how beautiful!), and rest.

(And here is a good poem.)
http://allpoetry.com/Huswifery