The turn to see so dear a brother,
So samely seated at the cross,
It is so truly great a treasure,
To share with you in life and loss,
I see in hazy dim our paths,
So stretching on and on,
What glory that they'd cross right here,
And surely ever on and on.

Steady over sun-kissed fields,
The Lord deals mightily with me,
Firm seat of all the fears I yield,
What heights to which He cares for me!
Again I fall so stricken weak,
So full of little weariness,
But here a brother! This I seek,
Who tells me that the Lord's done more with less,
Who speaks to me the grace that we do share.

By rolling clouds and ruggard grass,
The early summer heats on breezes pass,
The yellow and the evergreen,
Like deep wind-chimes whistle at this bright scene,
So howling ever as it comes,
An eager herald to Aeolus' runs,
A sturdy bench for such a time,
Seats two's unyielding passage into life,
To gaze upon our youth and trials ahead.

A brother there for your troubles,
Adopted, grafted, joint the same,
To struggle in and on the waves,
To with you chart the pilgrim's way,
And hash out where you brashly shout,
An unsure thing, but turn instead,
To humble thought and sober prayer.

Anticipated returns fill up a heart,
A little piece of your adventure mine,
Outpouring into laughter on these walls,
Again. Sweetness of reunion for a time.

Returning with joy to these familiar tracks,
The foliage tumbling over citrus graffiti,
The ceaseless scaffolding in a perilous ascent,
To my dear brothers who I know.

To celebrate so fine a brother,
A card and gift will not suffice,
But thanks to Him and praise to God,
And though it falls so short of it:
Firm words and merry birthdays wished,
A jig and game and laugh with bliss.

The Lun and done,
The day is gone,
Just right it is,
Just right it was,
For the merry laughter,
Formed a jig and danced much dafter,
Put a smile on where it ought,
Putting me in grateful thought,
I think that it was lovely too,
I thank God for my brother too.

What a gift to find a friend,
Who's just like you but not the same,
When talk of things flows free as water,
Where you pick each others brains to find the gold,
Why look beside when you can see,
How kind the Lord is to our souls,
To gift to us true brethren and a people that we didn't know.

Assembled with the mighty men,
Godly men who love whats good,
Arrayed in youth to grey and in-between,
Cascade of generations of this time,
To break a fast but rather to be met
With friendship and community.

Pull up a chair or rather a sofa to a beanbag small,
To read the open book and become likewise,
To open up in friendship and be read a little more,
A great gift is a band of brothers,
Such is a seed for mighty men to sprout,
The soil for life in all its fullness,
Indeed for life in His name and all its fullness.

Men's breakfast,
Bacon if you please,
Sausage too will be class,
So many conversations with ease,
This strong community to last,
To eternity without cease,
To hold ever tighter to the mast,
Firm wisdom for the seas,
Now this, this is a Men's breakfast.

Poemise the day,
A snapshot for another...
Me or someone not the same,
On a train I talked to a brother,
The divide bridged by our Lord's might,
And talk flowed through the generations.

Gracious gift of brothers,
Given to walk beside,
This modern life and darkened day,
To learn to pray,
To imitate as they
do unto Christ and lean on too.

Laughter for your dreary disposition,
Merrier when others chase away the solitude,
Better when in fellowship with a godly brother,
Edified by resounding clashes of iron,
I'll cry the selfsame phrase aloud:
What grace is fellowship in my home.

Flexing arms pile on and wrestle,
I deem thee jostle hug,
In active opposition - jest,
Four limbs locked in a cuddle snug.

Tunnels come and cloak the train,
To mirrors turn the windowpanes,
In shadows cast they show the same
Brothers sitting waiting still,
One observing while the other chills,
And out we come from tunnels drilled,
Into the open sky alight,
Dressed up in striking red tonight,
And it falls away beneath the trees.

Baking a friendship,
Risen in Christ,
And sprinkled with questions and vulnerability,
It's far better when you follow the divine recipe:
Love for the other in service,
Striving together for the prize - who is our Lord,
And a respect for the fellow image bearer,
It's so sweet yet it drips with contemplative complexity.

Muddied shoes,
And mucky adventures clothe the morning,
I'm walking with some mighty men,
That is to say those clothed in righteous robes like mine,
Not of themselves but from our brother,
And in each passing day they grow like him,
So talking is great fun with them,
They like to tell and laugh and listen.

Walking shadows,
Walk between the longing shade,
And talk between the leaning trees,
On mud, gravel and stone beneath their darkened feet,
Overlapping sometimes,
Doubled up and down to split beyond,
They silent walk and talk in pocketed hands,
And gaze sideways at numerous stars.

As the orange lights bathe these teal chairs in citrus waves,
A lulling rattle flows unending through the carriage.

We sit face to face,
Speaking of the simple and complex.

Young travelers sojourning in a distant land,
After recharging with our own.

All mysteries are our Lord's,
The hiding place of knowledge and wisdom are bare before him.

Over time we will know,
He will share with us the simple and the complex.

And into eternity we shall laugh and learn.

A soft crackle of snow,
Chases my shadow,
Dancing under the chilly pale light,
And waltzing with my shoes.

A cool breeze,
Caresses my nose leaving it red,
And sleepy clouds seem to fall off their axes,
Down, down into the waking land below.

A quiet walker,
Trudges on to his home,
A faithful friend limps beside,
It's not a long way now.

How he loves him.