Fleeing from You
nothing he sees
of Your preceding
as he flees.

Choosing his own paths
how could he know
Your hand directs
where he shall go.

Thinking he's free
"free at last,"
unaware Your right hand
holds him fast

Waiting for darkness
to hide in night,
not knowing, with You
dark is as light.

Poor prodigal!
Seeking a "where" from "whence"
how does one escape
omnipotence?
___________________
Little moth,
whate'er your name,
why do you fly
into the flame?
__________________
If I could stand aside
and see him walking through
those Splendor'd Gates
thrown wide,
instead of me-
If I could yield my place
to this, my boy,
the tears upon my upturned face
would be of joy!

(After Franklin had a son):

God, look who my daddy is!
He is the one
who wore his guardian angel out
(he thought it fun).
First, it was bikes:
he tore around those hills
like something wild,
breaking his bones
in one of many spills;
next it was cars:
how fast he drove (though well)
only patrolmen
and his guardian angel knew
the first complained,
the second never tells.
Then it was planes:
that was the closest we
ever got - til now,
I never knew him well
except that he
kept that angelic guardian
on his toes.
Not long ago
You touched him,
and he turned.
Oh Lord, what grace!
(and how quizzical the look
upon his angel's face:
a sort of skidding-to-stop
to change his pace).
and now, he just had me:
which only shows
who needs a little angel of his own
to keep him on his toes.
Oh, humorous vengeance!
Recompense - with fun!
I'll keep him busy, Lord.
Well done! Well done!