Eerie mist blankets the road,
Golden sunlight bursting through
A forest draped in silv’ry gauze
Midst pre-dawn stillness and dew,
He is there, watching o’er us.
At sunrise sisters journey through the woods,
Blades of grass bend beneath their running tread,
They stop to gather flower and feather,
And watch the deer and her kin far ahead.
And He is there, before us.
Grey fog rises from the field of dreams,
Color streaks the sky beyond the hay
Her words are filled with His truth and love,
To spur me to His presence this day.
And He is there, among us.
The splendor of the mid-day sun,
The high mountain shows her beauty,
As clouds soar across sapphire sky –
Whisper their Creator’s glory.
And He is there, its Maker.
A walk at dusk in cool summer air,
Pause to gaze at purple columbines,
Stop to behold the sunset mountain.
Watch graceful buck as on hay he dines.
And He is there, whose glory they show.
In the quiet of day’s closing hours,
In this one tender heart prayers are made,
With hopes, and longings, and “Father, please!”
Seek communion with Him and His aid:
And He is there, to comfort.
In the dark of midnight, shadows walk barefoot
Across dew-laden grass to moonlit meadows
The figures stop and consider the heavens
And rejoice in the stars and joys He endows.
And He is there, for us to worship.
The mist covers them as they speak,
And their speech soon turns into song,
Harmonies drift across night air,
“Holy, holy,” they proclaim e’re long.
And He is there, the vastness filling.
Wet with dew, they rise and journey homeward,
The words of hymns still falling from their soul,
Hearts filled with adoration for the One –
The One beyond comprehension – Behold!
He, far greater than the things He has made –
We understand not, and so – we worship.
Inspiration...
1: August 1 - on the way home from taking Anna to the airport - country roads at dawn.
2-3: July 18 - a sunrise run with a dear friend before leaving Csehy
4: July in the Pacific Northwest - at gramma's and en route to Portland
5: A walk with Anna
6: August 1- the close of a sanctifying day
7-9: July 17/18 - Midnight escapade to the Field of Dreams after an evening of games and fellowship, stargazing with some of the counselors at Csehy, singing hymns and talking of His glory.
Comments
I love this collection of
I love this collection of memories - especially with the title.
I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right. --The Book Thief
This is a striking
This is a striking meditation. Thanks for sharing it.
"There are no great men of God. There are only pitiful, sorry men whose God is great beyond measure." - Paul Washer [originally Jonathan Edwards]
Good job!
Lovely poem, I like it a lot!
Absolutely lovely!
Absolutely lovely!
......
This was beautiful, Kyleigh! Your rythmn was really good and it had a beautiful flow to it! It was very soothing..... I think soothing is the right word to describe it....
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The Holy Spirit is the quiet guest of our soul." -St. Augustine