Ruth's Poetry

Written for Lyndon Johnson's funeral

    Larger than life
    he lived here,
    smaller than death
    he lies
    under the spreading oak trees,
    under the skies.

    If mercy is for sinners,
    (which God
    in mercy gives)
    smaller than Life
    he lived here,
    larger than death
    he lives.


Time to Adore

    And when I die I hope my soul ascends slowly
    So that I may watch the earth receding out of sight
    Its vastness growing smaller as I rise
    Savoring its recession with delight
    Anticipating joy is itself a joy
    And joy unspeakable and full of glory
    Needs more than in a twinkling of an eye
    More than in a moment
    Lord, who am I to disagree?
    It's only we have much to leave behind,
    So much before.
    These moments of transition will,
    For me, be
    Time to adore.

When My Fall Comes

    When my Fall comes
    I wonder
    Will I feel
    as I feel now?
    glutted with happy memories,
    content
    to let them lie
    like nuts
    stored up against the coming cold?
    Squirrels always gather
    so I'm told
    more than they will ever need;
    and so have I.

    Will the dry,
    bitter smell of Fall,
    the glory of the
    dying leaves,
    the last brave rose against the wall,
    fill me with quiet ecstasy
    as they do now?

    Will my thoughts turn
    without regret,
    to the warm comforts
    Winter brings
    of hearth fires,
    books,
    and inner things
    and find them nicer yet?