Love Me in Winter, Most of All

 

O his Frog was freezing, and so was he,

As the cold snow fell, and the chill wind blew.

So we went to the haberdashery,

For a hat for our saint and Toady too.

Will you love me in Summer, Spring and Fall?

Will you love me in Winter most of all?

 

So, we bought two bonnets and a scarf so fine,

As the cold snow fell, and the chill wind blew.

And Good Albert was glad for folks so kind,

Who will comfort the Saints and Toadies too!

Will you love me in Summer, Spring and Fall?

Will you love me in Winter most of all?

 

(By Dennis Evans, written at Aquinas Institute/ University of Dubuque Theological Seminary om the winter of 1976-1977, to celebrate the decoration of the statue of Saint Albert Magnus, holding Book and Frog/Toad, in a courtyard. The actual knitting was done by a team including: Pat Engstrom, Lori Billings, Terry Thomas, and Gretchen Daneke. Dennis Was a scout acting to protect the team from being seen.)

“ALL HALLOWS”

Embrace the golden splendor where it breaks

From folds of God-washed garments. The shimmering

Harvest of this field of friends ripens in

The light reflected from the light which falls

Upon the broadening crowd. Breathe in reverence!

And whisper wondering, life-awakening words:

Living words inspired by rising beauty.

Contagious witness, praise, ripples the field

Of souls; praise at their glimpse of One enthroned:

“World-Making-Saving-Word!” The unity

(Redemption’s tide) where love and justice meet

With wounded hands (to bring the ransomed home)

Begins the chorus. Sung from one heart,

It spirals to an all-including round,

Resurging, swelling on, in waves of time;

And to the beat of ages echoing.

So, in the Lord’s eternal feast, the share

Of glory, joy, and praise will always grow.

(By Dennis Evans - As seen during an All Saints Day sermon preached by Dr. Paul Francis, at University of Dubuque Theological Seminary, in 1975; revised.)

“Love’s Worth: A Theological Speculation"

I do not know if I know how to love;

Love truly, wholly, and unstoppably.

So, do I, can I, simply give my heart

To be invested in the treasures God

Creates within the lives he shows to me?

I might not love what God has made of me!

The self I do not love – can it love God?

Some say that God loves all, including me.

The Infinite loves all infinitely.

Because of me alone, may this make God

The infinitely unrequited Lover?

 

(Dennis Evans, September 2022)

 

“The Cross Beams”

-“The Lamb slain from the foundation of the world” (Revelation 13:8) -

 

The beams of the world are made from wood.

They’re fastened with nails and stained with blood.

Embraced by the outstretched arms of God,

They bind all things for good.

 

The beams of the world shore up our heart

For God’s renovation, every part:

The clean up of Satan’s poison dart;

Then our true life shall start.

 

The beams of the world are battle torn.

They rise against evil, fear, and scorn.

Protecting the weary, weak, and worn,

They guard the coming morn.

 

The beams of the world an outline trace,

Through order and chaos, pain and grace.

They shape what they bear, through time and space,

Revealing God’s true face.

 

The beams of the world are scales that weigh

The worth of a life, a choice, a day,

By weight of a God who works in clay,

And dies to have his say.

 

The beams of the world are lines and bars

That carry the music of the stars;

The ballad of long and hopeful wars,

Where God has won his scars.

 

The beams of the world hang low with fruit,

While sliver and thorn send forth their shoot

Where God hung his head, forlorn and mute,

And bowed to plant their root.

 

The beams of the world, unseen, untold,

Are stronger than steel, more royal than gold.

All heaven and earth they gently hold:

The hands of God enfold.

 

The beams of the world enthrone a King,

Like girders that tower, and vault, and spring

The crossing he died and rose to bring:

The life the angels sing!

 

(Written by Dennis Evans, October 2004)

"I'm Scared"

Lord Jesus, of the Great Heart,

Rescue me from my fears.
Make me to not fear my fears,

Make me to not fear my loves!

(written February 19, 2022)

HAIKU - "Cries"

(From Psalm 61:1-4)

I cry from world's end;
Ah, the friendly talons grasp.
Come rest! Come eyrie!

(Summer 2020)

"Brave Baby Tears"

VERSES:

Brave, Royal Baby, with your Star

And shining angel army choir,

You settle where our dark worlds are,

To anchor us who wander far.

 

Into your stable cave’s black night,

Your star and armies bring their light,

But never show your strongest might

Until your weeping sings us right.

 

 

CHORUS:

Come, Holy Child, wash all our years;

Our tired creation’s wounds and fears.

Then, through your cross-born song of joyful tears,

We’ll join your singing kingdom as it nears.

 

(By Dennis Evans, December 29, 2020)

"Morning After Christmas"

 

"MORNING AFTER CHRISTMAS"

The Lord was making snow on Christmas night,

And served it up fresh the morning after.

He set it bright upon his earthen plate;

Upon its garnish (sprigs of western sage).

It made me smile. I ate some, and gave thanks!

 

(By Dennis Evans, December 26, 2020)

Haiku: "Faint Trails"

 

In the wild . . . faint trails

With a purpose, pass unseen,

Till you walk in them. 

(August 2020)

"Love's Pandemic Strategy"

(April 2020) 

"LOVE'S PANDEMIC STRATEGY"

You caught us well in Bethlehem,

But did not catch what ails us.

You caught our baby-self, our childhood-self.

You caught our saying “mother”, “brother”, “friend”.

This became yours, and makes you ours, for good.

You caught us well, in flesh, in rest,

In work: our seeking, questing;

Our laughing, weeping; and our many loves

To which we may say “yes”, or “no”, or “wait”.

To our surprise you caught our grown-up life,

Without contracting our diseased

Autonomy-obsession.

Pandemic freedom shuns tough claims of love

And trust. Disharmony endangers all

Our needed bonds; with you, with others. Self,

Itself, our being, forms a trap:

A stranger we must wrestle.

Every human carries this pandemic,

And bears its wounds within our heart and mind.

Those scars on our behavior span the world.

Our planet radiates the shade

And smell of viral darkness.

You caught us without catching this disease.

Our healthy vitals worked so well with you:

So charmed, we failed to grasp your alien scheme

To carry in you what we are.

You would contract our plague like

A lover poisoned by their true love’s kiss,

Or quarry by their faithful owner shot

Right through the heart, with no love lost. You did

Lure us, so we would infect you.

But love, your love, arranged this:

You caught this, arms outstretched, upon a cross.

“X” marks the spot upon your map of love

(Love’s trysting place with death), where we played false

While you played true, and won us whole!

Our curse, your cross, connected.

We hang here, nailed together.

That's your doing, all along.

We're caught! Now, can we catch you?

(by Dennis Evans, May 2020, edited)

New Innocence

"NEW INNOCENCE"

To be

So free,

That everything I see

Is full of seeing deeply:

Myself, at last, forgotten.

(Dennis Evans, February 2020)

A Witness

Figure of Christ
Mission San Diego Alcala
San Diego, CA, June, 2017

A Witness

I see you walk among the sick,

The poor, those laden with despair;

Yet something more than love is there

That makes my soul within me quick.

I see you bending, making clay,

And with your fingers touch blind eyes.

As dusty as you are, the skies,

I almost think, would sing your praise.

I could believe if I would bend,

The others being moved to tears

Around me, men mature in years,

Thinking you their sorrows’ end.

So much fervor! Yet I too

Sense some strange power as I see

You turn and fix those eyes on me...

“Lord, may I also follow you!”

Dennis Evans, Spring, 1972: I was about 20 when I wrote this.

Yes

Tall Timbers Ranch
September 2017

You whisper at my back: so soft.

I groan. I don’t know what you mean.

But I say “yes.” You knew I would.

I can’t say “no” to all that blood.

That cross: I know well what it means.

But what that whisper means; I don’t.

And on, and on, you go: so still

Behind my shoulder; and your touch

So silent. Tell me louder, please...

You’re crazy, God! To work this way

And keep me going, wondering what

And where it leads: through doubt and fear,

And grace, and sudden “doing it.”

You whisper at my back: so soft.

I laugh. Insane! I love you! Yes!

September 13, 2017

Tangent II

The airish* people have their charm,

The leprechaun his treasured gold,

The fearsome jinn his wishes three,

The elven maid her snares of love,

But they are fleeting as the breath

Of coolness on an August eve

(No more substantial are their gifts).

Our quest for magic drives us on

To seek in flesh, and blood, and more,

A fuller magic than before.

Written ‘79

*”Airish” people is archaic English for “aerial” beings, such as sprites, etc..

Tangent I

How foolish I am,

Have I lost my heart?

Mislaid it somewhere,

Until all my art 

Is spent in searching,

And not in giving?

written 1979

Love's Garden

Enclosed in your garden sweet with evening,
The voices of your friends, and your warm hand,
Your quiet gesture, camouflaged beneath the ebbing banter of a quieting world,
Your touch (so natural it went unseen)
Created, deep within, a mirror self
In embryo, a secret being born
With the nature of your true love impressed
On infant features.

Dennis Evans, 1980 revised

Driving through the Autumn San Joaquin

The blue and ragged curtain of

The mountains, low and far away,

Was drawn, or fallen into dust,

Or hidden by a higher veil

Dropped from the sky. A scarf of mist

Would be too coarse (a barricade

To fence our valley in) compared

To this luminous wealth of air:

The sheer melding of the margin

Of heaven with horizon. Wide

World you have forgotten to have

An end. You play infinity,

And spread your banquet table in

A cloth of harvest green and gold

That goes forever. Or we ride

Along a titan’s gallery

Where every form is beautiful,

But towering to our holy fear.

Amid your art (your oaks and farms)

We run with unexpected joy.

We praise, and wonder at our own

Strange happiness, that so adores

And rests content, as if we knew

That, in this praise, our work is done.

Dennis Evans, 1987

Holy Spirit, Storm of Power

HOLY SPIRIT, STORM OF POWER

Holy Spirit, storm of power,
Tempest with a rain of love;
Rise and surge and sweep our spirits
Till they run with wholesome flood.
Fill us, till our course is flowing 
From your open gates above.

Holy Spirit, sanctuary,
Comforter in times of stress;
You refresh us in the morning.
In the nighttime, you will bless.
Peaceful strength and steady counselor
Lead our hearts in quietness.

Holy Spirit, flame in darkness,
Melting hearts to warm delight;
Kindle us to bear your fire.
Make us torches burning bright,
Shining from the truth that frees us
In the glory of your might.

Holy Spirit, cleansing tempest,
Comforter and fire of faith;
Be the growing life within us.
Strengthen us to run the race;
Bearing fruit to please the Savior
Till we meet him face to face.

Lyrics by Dennis Evans, 1971, 2007
Here's something I wrote when I was 19 and revised a little a few years ago. I wrote it for Pentecost because most of the hymns I knew about the Holy Spirit were about quietness and sweetness, but the Day of Pentecost was all about fire and wind.

Columns Rearing Tall and Grey

Woods Along the Feather River, Live Oak, CA

Columns rearing tall and gray

To a green glass roof,

Through which is streaming,

On soft brown grass,

The light of day:

A refuge and a placed for dreaming

Are woods so near, yet far away.

Spring 1968: This is my first serious poem, written for Mrs. Engstrom's English 11X, American Literature and Composition (when I was 16).

Good Morning

“Good Morning”

Good morning poured into my room

In streams that, warming, wakened me

To watch the golden, rising tide

Flow inward from the dawning day.

The maiden light is rarely such

A flood of nearly touchable

Assurance, eager to arrive

And meet you; waiting like the sound

And fragrance of festivity

On your own doorstep, greeting you

Before you open and go in.

March, 1982