Poetry for the Brotherhood

I’ve agreed to speak 
to the Brotherhood of the Biscuit
at my church—a group of men
who gather monthly to
consume biscuits, 
enjoy each others company,
and hear from someone
they hope will feed their
spirits along with the biscuits.

I like what Mary Oliver has said,
“Poetry is a life-cherishing force,
for poems are not words after all,
but fires for the cold,
ropes let down to the lost,
something as necessary as bread
in the pockets of the hungry.”

That may come close
to the Brotherhood of the Biscuit.
Think of yourself with pockets
of biscuits—not those made
with flour and milk and eggs.

But those biscuits 
in your pockets made
up of dreams and hopes,
of purpose and vocation,
of love and compassion,
of grace and forgiveness,

that will feed your spirit
when the road looks perilous
and doubt clouds the way
and you aren’t sure what to do next.

Those biscuits.


See you at breakfast
on February 21st