Works Of A Wordsmith

The leaves crunch satisfactorily under my feet
As I plod steadily on in the chill wind,
Under the multihued grays in the sky overhead.
Fall moves forward in its relentless way
While I muse silently, slowly, ceaselessly…

Somehow, I want my mountains to move,
My crooked ways straight, my rough places smooth.
Some moments I am confident in my faith.
Some moments I tremble at the thought of tomorrow.
Some moments I wish the world could simply stop,
And let me catch my breath.

I cannot figure my way out or around or through.
I can only trod resolutely and blindly forward like Fall.
Every moment holds its own joy, its own grief, and
An unexplained fulfillment, a knowing that I can walk on
Through the demise of my little world surrounding me,
The restructuring of all I hold dear to my heart.

Each step brings its own inward satisfaction.
When the wind swirls wildly around me, and
The leaves fly uncontrollably chaotic,
Something in me still stands solidly
Reveling in the wildness of the turmoil,
Firmly rooted in His purposes.

In an odd way, I love the melancholy clouds overhead.
They transform the sky into a moving canvas
Painting itself into different images moment by moment.
So, I stand, staring upwards in awe and remember
The Master Painter designs in the skies,
And in my own heart as well.

I turn my attention earthward and trudge on knowing
It is Creator’s plan, ultimately for His glory,
That, regardless of cost or difficulty, I travel trustingly
Toward whatever goal He sets.