of the morning
give me skin to feel You.
give me toes to understand
what kind of mud is always settling
in the yes-spring-puddles of You. please
give me fingertips to touch Your greatgreenglowing leaves.
come make me shiver, but don't let me suddenfreeze
in the quick-frozen, slow-thawing universe of these.
oh, Spirit! let my body sing
of seasons soaked in sun to savor,
today's and never maybe later's!
oh, Spirit! if You, in passing, brush back my hair and whisper gently in my ear,
give me eyes to shut real tight and give me ears to hear.
poem, jan. 24 by joeldevyldere
|"tree in fog" by andrew|