It’s the end of the day, and I need a break.
I can’t possibly learn anything more
With this headache.
Check the tide charts for the state of the shore -
Looks like it’ll be
A negative point nine
In an hour or two. Let’s see -
I’ll whip on some sunblock (the dog starts to whine)
Grab a hat (lost my sunglasses), check my chair
For the keys (he’s barking now).
Snap on a leash. Step outside. Such cool air
I’m not used to on a sunny day. But how
Fresh the wind is, how the walk

Animosity
My perplexity
A redundant thought
Some small worries fraught
Heart-torn and bleary
Blinded and weary
Sentences framed
Tongue is now aimed
Give me discretion
Show me my lesson
Diminish my fears
Wipe away my tears
I can't understand
But I won't demand
Please Lord, give me sight
Let me be alright
I want to trust You
Your promises true
Delight in Your will
Heart of mine, be still
Look up for the Light
His love gives us sight

Incandescent joy
This is not a ploy
Happiness today
Hold it not at bay
Let the light so glow
Everyone will know
Seems I cannot wait
Jitters won't abate
Inexplicable
Patience workable
Be still oh my heart
Carry on your part
Feelings shan't prate
It's well worth the wait

Galatians 5:22,23 kjv
"The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law."

Happiness is
A buoyant smile
That laughs and lifts
You on for a mile –
 
A full, white moon
In the middle of the night
Whose beams fall like snow
Making dark meadows bright –
 
A horse that gallops
To say hello
Tossing its head
Prancing to and fro –
 
A little puzzle
Made of math
That takes an hour of
Thought without wrath –

I hear some far-off song
or perhaps a little ditty,
And I may hum along
as I stroll throughout the city.

A dove begins to croon
the song I heard the world singing
it is a mournful tune
while that bird ‘round me is winging

But I skip through the crowds,
ignoring all the staring folk,
(I know my smile clouds
their somber lifestyle’s yoke.)

How can I bring myself
to sorrow for their discomfort?
Should joy be on a shelf,
Till no one objects or retorts?

I usually go hunting in the woods. I run through the white-picket fence that is in my backyard. I have my pure wooden bow in my right hand. It is made I out of red oak tree.
I wear black rubber boots just in case there is a thunderstorm and black and brown colors for camouflage. Birds chirp and salmon jump in and out of the clear, blue water, trying to swim upstream. I finally spot a red squirrel, but it quickly runs up a tree. I grunt, throw the bow over my shoulder, and start climbing the huge tree.

Am I to be a spider, laying traps
casting nets
spinning webs—
always hungry,
and never speak—
until my hair is silver as my thread?

I think I should be instead
a careless sparrow, and fly where I may
and land where I please.
Be plain-feathered and plain of song
so none will wish to cage me.

But I will let myself be tugged down
by gravity, or bread.
And I will perch in hand or bush
and be still when I will and have my peace
and be fed.

Augustine calls the Holy Spirit “The quiet guest of our soul.”

St. Augustine in his quote beautifully describes the identity of the Holy Spirit. It is this image of guest that I am going to explain in a yet deeper form. I will begin by presenting to you three examples of three guests, for it is as a guest that St. Augustine describes the Holy Spirit. Then I will describe how the Holy Spirit occupies our souls using my three examples.

“Walk with your feet on earth, but in your heart be in heaven.” –St. John Bosco