Wednesday, December 21, 2011

The Spirit Breathes

Watched as the umbrella
Blue and stripped white
Bent and dismissed
Disarmed of it's routine home
Scrapes gravel and black greased pavement
Towed over and back again
Abused by authority

Lawns spout out their normative song
A rhythmic spray like cricket legs
But notes fly further
Pivoting seed and spray

Leaves scuttle
Like mindless drones
A mad ballet orchestrated
Instantaneous and unawares

Trees bow in a submissive dance
Dipping low to a backbreaking depth
And yet and yet sustain the beat
The rhythm like a spastic sea
All spindled and spun
Our bodies breath
Sharp and startled

The Spirit breathes
and we see the storm
The beast just outside our fragile
windowpane, glass
Placid swaying shift my guts to glorify
To honor the living God who 
claims the beast
The treat of terror
Clothed in reverence
The skies move and I remember
I am small
Fed to the beast if not for grace
Grace, grace resounds
Sweeping across the terror of the night
Night green beast of forestry

Lamenting leaves
Foliage chaffed and thrown by the hands of God

3 comments:

  1. Thanks. It's about the storm, which I'm sure you've gathered.

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  2. There is something about storms, thunder and lightning that give me chills down my spine from the dangerous, forbidden, romantic feeling I get.
    Once again, another great piece!

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