Waters of the River

My being
is as the waters of a river;
passing through time and change
and creations of God
and man
that line my way.
Ever changing, ever moving,
pursuing paths
not always of my choosing . . .
traveling at a pace
not always of my heart's desire,
toward some obscure horizon;
some uncertain destiny.

Like the river,
I am moved by powers
I cannot command;
sometimes to linger
in desolate and ugly places
'til I become
a part of what they are . . .
and their look
is on my face . . .
Then suddenly to be swept
past things of beauty,
things of worth,
too fast to grasp . . .
too fast to comprehend.

My life
is as the waters of a river
and I cannot change my course.
Perhaps, there was a time,
somewhere in the beginning,
but not now.
So I will take the path I must
toward whatever seas await me.

— Jim Metcalf
From his book “In Some Quiet Place.”

Photo by Dan Hardison
Tellico Plains, Tennessee

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Winter Visitor

If the time of April
were upon us,
you'd be just another day –
so much like the ones
that came before you
and the ones that would come after –
that your loveliness would go unnoticed
in the sameness of a springtime sequence,
when beauty follows beauty
from sun to moon to sun again.

But now, in winter,
you violate the mandates
of a calendar that dictates
what your nature ought to be . . .
and your warm kiss
is made the sweeter
when felt on cheeks
that recall the touch of winter . . .
just a day ago.

— Jim Metcalf
From his book “Please to Begin”.

Photo by Dan Hardison
Moores Creek National Battlefield
Currie, North Carolina

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The Teacher

Walk slowly, little one
and let me walk beside you,
as you see the wonders

you will see.

And I will try to see them
through your eyes . . .
eyes, still fresh

and beauty seeking;

eyes that do not hide
behind the dimming veil

of ugliness.

Tell me what you see

when birds fly by . . .
when buds of green appear
on April's trees.

Tell me about the ripples

on the pond,
and the colors
of the flowers.

There is so much
I need to know;
so much I have forgotten.
I remember only

how to look.

I do not remember

how to see.

So let me walk along with you
and share the world you know.

I will be the learner.
You will be the teacher.

— Jim Metcalf
From his book “In Some Quiet Place”.

Photo by Dan Hardison
Wilmington, North Carolina

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A Thing of Beauty

I believe in beauty
for beauty's sake,
and that no matter
where it hides,

it is never wasted.

If, in some dark
and secret place it lies,
where eyes of man
will never see it,

it is no less lovely.

It needs neither praise
nor adoration
to justify its being.

It exists.
It need do no more

to serve its purpose.

I believe in beauty
as a noble end
within itself.
And I believe
that God does.

Were it made
for man alone
it would not adorn
the silent floors of oceans

where he will never walk.

Or be buried for eternity
beneath the sands

of barren deserts.

If a man should wander
from his charted way
and chance upon

a thing of beauty, hidden,

then it is he
who will be rewarded;
he who will be changed.

The thing of beauty
will remain the same.
As it was before he came,
so will it be

when he is gone.

— Jim Metcalf
From his book “In Some Quiet Place”.

Photo by Dan Hardison
Wilmington, North Carolina

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Before I Sleep

If I have let
this day pass by
and can’t remember
something good about it,
then I have been ungrateful

and I beg forgiveness.

If I have been involved
too much with me …
my wants and woes,
to see the beauty
that surrounds me,
then I have been played the fool

and I am sorry.

If I have not
stretched out my hands
to loved ones
to show them that I care,
then I have been unfeeling

and I am ashamed.

If I have failed to help
when it was needed,
yet asked others to help me
then I have been selfish

and I apologize.

If I have not seen
the face of God
reflected in a million ways
and places,
then I have been blind

and I ask for another chance

to try again

tomorrow.

— Jim Metcalf
From his book “In Some Quiet Place”

Photo by Dan Hardison
Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina

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