Wind

Wind, the source of comfort on a hot day.

The cause of the snow spray

The generator of power seen from the highway

The dustball rolling on the spillway.

Your are my friend and my nemesis

The cracking of trees limbs

The interruption to a good concert

The transporter of seeds

Good ones and weeds.

You are as might as a jet stream

Or as gentle as a dream.

Carry me away to the next place

Lure me with a caress to my face

Wind oh wind

Do not end.

by Dave Schipper (c) 2018 Rose Riversongs

Dream Catcher

Yes I turned the corner in the store to see

a wall of dream catchers; really?

How does an ancient native idea, 

get to be a modern decor piece.

I reach out to marvel at the taught string

wrapped around a birch branch

twisted in an incredibly precise circle

and I was transported to field.

Truly this was not an manufactured China

imitation dream catcher but real

I could smell the grain blowing in the breeze

I see hear my heart beat.

Spiritually my mouth was dry

but I could taste the coolness of a spring

Is this my imagination or did my touch

Open this dream world weaved into this piece.

The feathers so soft appeared to be a pheasant

And the sound of a rustling bird 

Taking to flight was total clarity.

Holy or mystical the dream catcher spirit lived.

by Dave Schipper (c) 2018 Rose Riversongs

Cry for Attention

Some say it’s a cry for attention

Maybe it is.

Some say I’m a bit impatient

Could be right.

All of this analysis 

can be useless

Or can be priceless

just because.

When push comes to shove

I’m just hungry

Hungry for word filled love

Yep a chat.

Fill me up with ideas 

Glint your eyes

Just talk about whatever

And I’ll be fine.

Well until then, I’ll write

Even if it feels

Just a little contrite

Being one sided.

Plus I’ll likely cry

or whine

To myself this time

for attention.

By Dave Schipper (c) 2019 Rose Roseriversongs

Community of Believers

I belong to a community of believers

To a rich group of deceivers

You know the saint and sinner bunch.

Come on just take a hunch 

That we know what we’re all doing.

When we gather for an hour.

We don’t and that’s ok

Someone leads us along

Maybe teaches a new song.

Ha and we all get along.

For an hour or so.

Yep these Lutherans are a diverse bunch

and down the road you find

Another less diverse tribe.

One calls themselves open

One has a closed communion.

One can only imagine

What would Jesus do

If he had to decide where to go.

Who had the best pot luck?

Who needed the the most help?

One’s faith says he’s there to all

Because they hit the quorum

Three in his name and all.

Makes a community seem small.

Could be a street corner to hit that.

And you he’s probably there too

Because he said he would.

And we take him for his word

Because we’re a community of believers.

Sometimes known as deceivers.

by Dave Schipper (c) 2019 Rose Riversongs

In the morning

I love the way I see you in the morning.

Your face as pure and unpainted

The pain from the morning distress

The lines from the linens pressed

Unsightly and not presentable is false

Real and my companion for life

I can see the smiles and the laughter

Mixed in the blahs of morning after

You are a soul mate that refreshes me

When I really would rather shut down

You nourish me with a great song

One that I take with me all day long.

by Dave Schipper (c) 2019 Rose Riversongs