An enduring whippoorwill;
I heard upon waterbed drift lonesome.
Heard its mournful echo faint and hollow…
Its whimper wooed, wooed, wooed;
endless whoop, ever wakeful summon
high upon a darken limb.
Bring forth… what image I
encompass, loosen in undying universe;
boundless, pondering, mulling, casting
tracing voice to correlate human notes.
Yet what link will be tossed to trust?
Yet what docile message is revealed?
Yet the call embraces still night air;
flows rivers of eternal hope.
“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him.
They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. Jeremiah 17:7
I eat my meals in odd portions. An appetizer is an early morning prayer walk, as sunrise filters through budding trees. Main course is my quiet time as I page through the Bible feasting on meat sometimes new and often familiar. Dessert comes as twilight approaches; a stroll through savory woods with a song of sweet worship in my heart. It is good to be grateful for daily nutrition. Craving for the best God has for each of us. I like to think of it as, “Chef’s Special.”
Dawn’s rising portion…
timber, table, time, and trust;
an eternal feast.
“And Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me shall never hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst.” John 6:35 Over at dVerse we’re severing dinner, stop and see what’s on the spring menu.
It is often I scamper to the woods to wash my thoughts of day. Beneath the forest crown, upon the threshing floor, and within the arms of watchful limbs I plunge sure-footed down wooded lane. Breathe in the mollify melody of birds among the trees. Feel the ease of earth between my toes. Inhale the woodsy scents of bud and rot. All enhance my taste of what lies beyond each winding bend.
It need not be swells of spring where sticky cobweb clings to hair. Nor sultry summer day as broad leaves waltz in wind. I anticipate the warmth of autumn’s glow, its blush bittersweet hues. Winter is when true forest cleansing scrubs from head to toe. Like icing on a cake, the trees are dressed in white. I sense a deeper purging… a pouring out of now and then.
cling to crusty bark woes settled on thin shoulders Refreshing forest
I had no idea all these years I’ve been ‘forest bathing’. Stop over at dVerse to see what it’s all about. “Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” Psalm 51:7.
Cat died today, faithful felon of old: my foot warmer, security blanket, and endless friend. I’m unprepared for grief. Let the cat in, let the cat out is no longer a routine in my day. As day breaks with morning’s new sunrise I will ponder how to fill the empty corners of life.
“O death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory.” With cat’s passing I ponder death and loss: the unborn, the war orphan and the unexpected loss. I’m told we shall not all sleep, instead be changed. This soul will be given a new body. I will weigh the balances of life and death.
As days and weeks melt this grief I choose to move forward. Embrace someone who suffers more than I. Grasp the hope of each new day. Yet in the crook of some days I’ll page through the memories of cat and I… cat died today.
Over at dVerse we’re investigating prose poetry. Dedicated to Rachael who lost her cat today and being encouraged by I Corinthians 15:55 I attempts the intangible… prose poetry.
How effortless it’s to wiggle between tree line
where critter jiggles from oaks onto pines;
till somber, slate storm cloud wriggles and whines.
Wayward giggles lost among leafy vines.
Staggered squiggles of peace with worn twine;
as low-spirited heart may sorrow till morning shines.
“Even in laughter the heart may sorrow…” Proverbs 14:13 Over at dVerse it’s all about giggles.
I meander thawing meadow path. My grandson trails behind. Above a sandhill crane soars across muted sky. Mud caked hove prints cover our way. I gaze at my grandson. His eyes filled with wonder, as he freely asks questions. Questions about the nature of life. Trotting on through woods we spot the crane atop marsh ice. We linger in awe. The best things in life are freely enjoyed in a moment of time.
scarlet masked crane
hidden behind brittle grass
plumage reveals all
“Children’s children are the crown of old men, and the glory of children is their father.” Proverbs 17:6 Linking up at dVerse for a look at things free in life.