From My Window

It’s a misty, moisty morning here in our wee cove.

The kind of morning that begs you to just sit and listen—

A gentle rain peppers our tin roof…

A wren trills for her mate…

In the distance there’s a low rumble of thunder…the remnant of an early storm.

It’s the kind of stillness one wishes they could bottle

Like a fine perfume.

And bring out later, to dab behind the ears—when one hears grumbling

Or on one’s wrist—when busyness threatens to steal the day.

Even to spray in the air—to sweeten the odor of conflict and discord.

As I write this, a cardinal is calling in the timber.

Cardinals have long been my God Speak

So I will listen

Listen , this time, to what He wants to say to me.

 

Teach me, Lord, to Be Still

So even when the storms rage

I will hear the sweetness of Your voice

And know that You are God!misty moisty morning 11168953_936142416409039_6173322773301740598_n

 

3 thoughts on “From My Window

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