The air —
Laden with care —
With guilts, not graces,
With long-gone places,
With regrets, what-ifs,
With laundry lists.
And then —
A gust of wind —
The Spirit comes
And speaks in tongues,
Slamming doors,
Awakening snores.
The lightning strikes —
And thunder rumbles —
The tension crumbles.
Then sweet release
Of pent-up rain —
God comes again.
His tender care
Dispels all fear.
All will be well,
All will be well.
Ah, the shade, on sultry day,
And wisp of wind against your skin.
Thank you, magnolia.
Thank you, styraciflua,
For braving winter wind and cold
‘Til summer — leafy arms unfold.
And water from faucet,
With ice cubes, too,
Or lemonade, or brown iced tea,
Down the throat, deliciously.
Without the heat, ‘twould be no pleasure,
Without the heat, we could not measure,
Blessed relief, after the heat.
(At least in the northern hemisphere!)
The winter has passed.
On many days we see the sun –
At last!
Aft’ freezing rain,
Aft’ icy wind,
Our hearts can open up again.
No longer do I cringe
Against the wind.
Not much fasting now –
More feasting.
Not much bleakness now –
With color is our world endowed.
The warmth of the sun –
Let hearts be open to it now.
Beyond the hills,
I sense the ocean,
Miles away.
Fish frolic in rolling waves,
Sun glances off glassy waters,
Seagulls wheel recklessly in cyan skies.
How do the mermaids feel?
Are they free as the wind,
Though beneath it?
Deep, deep down,
There are no waves –
Maybe God is like that –
Unruffled by the world
Above / below Him.
Storm’s a comin’
Wind’s a whippin’
Air is chillin’
Leaves a blowin’
Wind’s a moanin’
Tree branches groanin’
Life’s a flowin’
People are growin’
Eternity beckoning
I’ll make you a garden,
In which you can tread
On green things that aromas send.
In which you’ll find refreshing shade
Amidst life’s burdens heavy laid.
You’ll see abundant birds and bees,
And squirrels skittering up the trees.
The flowers glorious will be there,
Their fragrance hanging in the air.
The fruits and vegetables will grow —
Might be a few weeds; I don’t know.
There’ll be a bench where you can sit,
And rest your weary bones a bit.
The wind will rustle through your hair;
Accept its presence, if you dare.
You’ll take deep breaths and drink the air —
Finding yourself, you’ll have no care.
Can you hear Jesus?
His voice so gently calls.
I hear Him in the crashing waves,
In clear, bright mornings,
In darker days.
Can you hear Jesus calling?
He wants to own your heart.
Can you hear Him in the wind?
The fresh, cool breeze?
The Voice within?
Can I hear Jesus speaking?
Or is my heart too deaf?
Will I turn away from Him,
Let call grow dim, or
Let Him wash away my sin?
Can we hear Jesus speaking?
And let us meet one day,
On other side,
Without our pride —
He patiently abides.
Wild and free
Someday I’ll be;
Wind in my hair
And not a care.
To soar so high,
Up towards the sky,
With eagle’s eye
And no more lies.
I’ll run and run,
Out towards the sun.
Thy will be done;
Thy Kingdom come.
But now on earth,
The suff’ring hurts.
Until life’s end,
And to new birth.
[Photo credit: http://animalwalls.blogspot.com/2011/09/white-wild-horses.html ]
clarakatalin 