I saw the sun the other morning
Peeking through a crevasse in the clouds
Like a brilliant iris of light,
(Too bright to see the color)
Staring through the vast, dark grey eyelids.
Even when the sun rose to its hidden place
Behind the upper mass of moisture,
The brightness of that spot drew my vision
Till all the last remnants of radiance
Faded to the jaded blue of the indifferent sky.
But bright hope kept shining within me…
Beyond the canopy of clouds,
Sun shone with all her beauty and
I felt touched by it, gifted with it,
As if I were a carrier of that light
In some supernatural, ephemeral way.
But no one else could see it, feel it… touch it.
So I curled the hope up inside me,
Snuggling with the joy already there
Until it blossomed into fresh faith.
Father sure knows how to paint a beautiful sky!
Tag: sky
Fingers of the morning sun pierce the clouds,
Like Your hand extended over the landscape,
Hovering above us all as sweet reminder of
Your goodness, Lord…
Your mercy, Lord…
Your continual grace that allows us to
Begin each new day with Your breath of life.
The deeply blue-gray clouds outlined
With golden filaments of light
Starkly contrasts pale blue-white sky
Like the wounded world against the healing heavens…
All held together in Your palm.
Bright sunrise
Peeping round the gray clouds,
Then bursting forth
Against the distantly fading storm,
Erasing all the darkness
With neon red-orange light,
Brightening the winter landscape.
Coming day—
Fresh promise of hope spilling
Over my soul again,
Dissolving the crowded angry thoughts
Till once more, I find mercy
Renewed, gotten, given,
Expansive as the brilliant blue sky.
Wakened soul
Led to pasture one more time,
Guarded tenderly as
The deep, still waters of peacefulness
Soak through every bit of anxiety,
Reminding me…
The Lord is my Shepherd.
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.