An Anniversary

In real life, my wife is a minister;
She’s often with the sick, dying, or grieving.
She is tonight, even though
It is our wedding anniversary.

The woman I fell in love with
Had so much love in her that
It spilled over onto other people:
Both the joyous and celebrating and
Those hurting or in pain.
This is not just a gift, it is
A calling:
To bring whatever comfort is possible
Where possible.

And I still love her for it.

So happy anniversary, my love,
Even though I’ll probably be asleep
When you read this.
I’m grateful to be able to witness
The daily overflow firsthand.

Hope For Love

This one’s for my wife

You give me your love everyday,
As I, too, give you mine;
And words that people ought to say –
We say them all the time

So while you’re sleeping next to me,
In this, our wedding bed:
I think, since you have all my love
I’ll give you hope instead

I hope you know
That my life has been beautiful with you;
I hope for you
The dreams you’ve always dreamed of still come true.
I hope you see
The love you give turns everything to gold;
I hope that you
Are still right here beside me when we’re old

I hope that life
Is full for you, because you give so much;
I hope that every sunset
Lights your passion with its touch.
I hope that Grace
Flows through in every single thing you do;
I hope the best, because
I’ve only had the best
With you

A Perfect Night

[A song, written for my wife before our wedding, circa 1999. – Owen]

Stars up in the heavens
Shining clear and bright
Lights across the water
No one else in sight

Just to say, “I love you,”
And to hold you tight —
It’s loving you that makes
A perfect night

It might be in Paris,
In Boston, or in Rome,
In a fancy restaurant,
Or staying here at home

Just to have you near me,
And to hold you tight —
It’s holding you that makes
A perfect night

I never thought
That I would find someone
Who fills my nights
The way you do

And if I’m blessed
With twenty-thousand more
I’ll spend each night
Loving you —

If tonight the crowds were cheering,
All chanting my name,
And I beheld the glories
Of power, wealth, and fame,

I wouldn’t want to have them
Without you by my side,
For it without you
There is no perfect night

It’s holding you that makes
A perfect night

It’s loving you that makes

A perfect


Cherries By The Lake

The heat was so oppressive, we
Could barely make it up the hill
That overlooked the distant lake.

A shack with cherries there for sale,
A tiny windmill in the yard,
And both of us, exhausted —

The woman said, “Come in. Cool off.”
The air felt like a swimming pool
And you and I ate cherries in our chairs.

This comes back now, I think, because
How often, these days, all we share
Is that we both are tired,

But that such sharing is a thing.
And even one remembered fond,
Might make today, well


… how close the far away

Across the room a wooden table
Yellow tea lights flicker
The night is gathering her dress
To go amid the stars

And we in silence find abundance
Through the skylight glowing
As shadows dance across the bed
And every sound is ours

For we are physical and mental
Full emotions churning
And yet are centered to our core
To lie among the still

And see the lights of years ago
By our few candles burning
To feel how close the far away
Can be when we just will

A Life She’s Never Had

She reads about a life she’s never had;
Of men, romantic, focused, fully there –
And yearns with an intensity quite sad,
For all she’s wanted, but could never share

The man she married: forceful and intense.
It’s had its moments, some bad and some good;
But she knows now, he’s never really cared
To understand her needs or wants – nor could.

They never watch a movie that she’d like,
They are with his friends, if with friends at all;
He comes home with desire, late at night,
She is a sort of wifely booty call

But in these books, that he thinks silliness,
She finds the searching look, the soft caress;
The women there are loved by men, and more:
They’re not just someone he comes home
To score