Monday, July 14, 2014

Reflections on Sunday.

Here is a short ditty I wrote several years ago.  It is not a commentary on my current pastor, but rather a commentary on the human condition.  Church can be a quiet place, and if you happen not to be in tune to the message on a particular Sunday, you might find yourself drifting off.


Today in church
my foot went to sleep.
The sermon was long
and not real deep.
The rest of me was struggling too,
but only my foot went to sleep.

Dennis Price


Sunday, July 13, 2014

Sunday Reflection

It's Sunday.  I choose to take time out today to go and worship God. I hope you do also.  Reflection on those things that are only known by faith are sometimes lost in the constant flow of other information.  When we are forced to stop for a while and unplug from the repetitive drone, we can often enjoy life at a level we may not have felt since we were children. I was fortunate to be in an area with few clouds as the full moon came up last night.  It was spectacular.  I wrote this poem years ago to try and put into words one of those "aha" moments.

          GOD’S PEBBLE

There was a man upon life’s road 
who rarely wavered from his task,
walked with purposed step and true,
until a pebble found his shoe.

And once inside, the pebble wore
upon his foot till stop, he must.
While kneeling down to get the stone
he saw a world he’d never known.

On his left he saw the sea,
breathed salt air, felt the breeze,
heard the crash of waves on sand,
felt a presence, not of man.

On his right huge mountains rose
rugged peaks, towering trees.
A pristine lake, reflections bore
that magnified God’s bounteous store.

He took the pebble from his shoe,
once more started on his way.
But, stopped and looked from time to time
as God’s small pebble came to mind.

Dennis Price

Saturday, July 12, 2014


Did you ever wonder how you were seen by other animals?  What about the amazing dragonfly?  Here are some thoughts on the subject.


A dragonfly
with bulging compound eyes
zigs, zags, and zips
across the sky
transparent wings a whir.
Landing lightly,
on my shoulder now.
In kaleidoscope
it sees my face.

Dennis Price