Psalm 84 v3

Spring. Swallows swoop, home once more

From winter a continent away

Seeing in their guided flight

Wonders which no pilgrims here

Have looked on or imagined in their dreams.

Small insect life, swept up from valley far below

Is breeze-borne food for them around

The man-built cliffs of sun-warmed stone

Built as home for (though it cannot hold)

God whose praises upwards swirl

Past mud-built nests, secure beneath the eaves.

Warm flagstones. Sparrows squabbling

Glean offered grain, fallen as it was waved.

Not travellers, they know each corner

That is safe from keen eyed kestrel

Or merlin’s heart stopping stoop to seize and kill.

They also know their market two a farthing worth

But are still content to be about

The bronze gates of this special place

Where the Maker of stone, bird and man

Is loved, worshipped and obeyed

The longed for place of swallow, sparrow, me.

Psalm 84 is a favourite for many people. It has special significance for our church - it s name - Threshold - comes form some translations of the Psalm

("( would rather stand at the threshold of the house of the Lord than dwell in the tenets of wickedness" v 10) .

Some years ago I had a strong mental image of the swallows and sparrows with their very different personalities and behaviour, but both find ing safety on God's house -, just as all we very different people do

Destination

A cavatina version of Psalm 84

We made camp at dusk. Cooking fires. Weary

Expectation.

Tomorrow the long last uphill stage to

Destination.

Sparks shoot upwards, seek to join the stars. Their

Aspiration.

Singing in God’s lovely dwelling place our

Exultation.

Worship fulfilling deep heart’s desire in

Consummation.

Swooping swallow, squabbling sparrow safe there,

his Creation.

Blessed those who dwell there praising in his

sure Foundation.

And blest too we pilgrims who, trusting you,

find Salvation

Dry places burst to flower as grace gives

Delectation.

Hear our prayer O Lord our God, our heartfelt

Supplication.

One day with you, not spending elsewhere long

years Duration.

To simply serve, not enticed by dark tents

of Temptation.

To make your light, your shield, your favour our

Contemplation.

To seek your presence and great purpose

our Vocation.

For you do not hold back Consolation

From those who make you their Destination.

September 2025

September saw the thirtieth anniversary of Threshold. It was also month when the theme for my online poetry group was "Destination" , as the next stage in our year long theme of "Journey." Pigimage is very much part of the Christian story and it all feel into place, helped by seeing "cavatina" mentioned in an online glossary pf poetic forms and the fact that destination is one of the easiest of words to rhyme

Three sonnets at Port en Alls

To eastwards curve of coast fades into haze

Shape, colours swallowed in uncertainty

Of where land, sea, sky keep identity

Separate from each other. This dying day’s

Light seems mergent with growing dark that lays

Night on prospects of bright eternity

With loss of all in greyed infinity

And we can only long this sad moment stays.

But from the grey strikes point diamond light

Reflected from that other truth, the sun

Answer that life’s thin thread is not yet spun

Hope beyond darkness of the coming night

Dawn in the east will yet make all things right

Bright present proof of new life yet to come.

Night. Uneasy dark lies dull across the sea

Pressing down the weight of all men’s doubt.

All forms that make life sure the mist blots out

Though in day they merely point to mystery.

No air soft stirs the leaf of summer tree.

Only the endless tidal rise and fall

Sighs on sand. No mournful night birds call

Their plaintive news of when the dawn may be.

And then long miles away a lighthouse gleam

Man-made brief truth of hope against the dark

Enough to steer a course against the stream

Enough to show good men may make their mark

Proclaim bright day to come beyond the dream

To rise with courage skyward as the lark.

New morning and across the sweeping bay

What was lost in mist is now made plain.

The lines of cliff sea’s chaos still restrain

That men may wake and go about their day

Unafraid to labour, love and play.

In homes and fields warm summer comes again

Surety of harvest, soon ripening grain

Store ‘gainst winter in firm built barn will lay.

Last night’s fear now seems small but no less real

Those truths of empty death that all men dread

Lightless pathways we know are ours to tread

Though now our little lives seem strong as steel.

But – light has come. Whatever lies ahead

Cannot dismay those whose hope is not yet dead.

July 2016

The first was inspired by a prolonged flash of reflected light on the Lizard across Mounts Bay as all faded into haze. The third was an attempt to describe hope in the following morning’s sunlight, and then, some weeks later it seemed right to add a nocturne in the middle. Port en Alls is also known as Prussia Bay

The Embroidery

“Courage is not simply one of the virtues but the form of every virtue at the testing point”

C. S. Lewis

Rainbow vibrant, scattering bright sunlight

Colours of cardinal virtues captured

Deft needles made design reality

Embroidered beauty of true humanity.

Green generosity, pure love’s deep red

White humility, self-control’s bright gold

Cerise gratitude, diligence is blue

Quiet brown patience awaiting all things new.

Unseen beneath gorgeous flare of colour

Grey canvas holds the many threads in place

No thought given by the admiring crowd

This fabric does not speak its name aloud.

But without it no virtue will stand test

Staunch courage gives its form to all the rest.

May 2024