This morning I got lost in the sky.
I went for my morning jog – and I use that term loosely, because I jog for about a half mile and walk the rest of the way – and instead of a quick glance to see if rain was due, I looked at each section of sky.
To the east, the rising sun seared and warned that I was too small and too imperfect to look long in that direction, even with the haze that tried to soften the glare. To the south, the palest shade of blue held gentle wisps of trailing white. To the north, broad cloudy towers rose in vertical swoops. To the west a hint of heaviness darkened the grey above the tree line. Overhead, wisps of white played tag with barely visible shades of rose against a blue that grew more vibrant with each minute.
The heavens declare . . .
How many mornings do I glance up and feel I know the sky? One quick look is all I spare. Today it’s cloudy. Today it’s clear. All I care about is if it’s going to rain on my parade.
How many mornings to I glance in God’s direction, and miss seeing Him?
The holiness that burns my eyes and heart. The gentleness that reveals itself in beauty with soft edges. The power that stretches from earth to eternity. Even the dark tones that threaten on the horizon reminding me that time is short and judgment is real.
The heavens declare . . .
This morning I got lost in the sky.
This morning,
every morning,
I want to get lost in God.
Rend the heavens and come down.
Let me see each facet of Your nature. Purity, compassion, might and relentless grace. Let me celebrate each shade, each portion You choose to reveal.
Amen.
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4 June 2007
After the storm, my mind cleared.
And a high wind arose and blew the tropics north.
running quartz crystals through a blender.
sand through your engines.
bubbles in your bays.
estuaries reaching out toward forbidden seas…
sand through your eyes.
5 June 2007
Calm as baby’s breath
as peaceful as the storm’s eye
Clouds spread and drawn with rough strokes of stratospheric winds
a warm and windy tropical day.
7 June 2007
Black water at dusk.
Lighting on the horizon.
Warm winds coming in across the darkening waters.
A flash of white wings as an egret takes flight.
And Thunder like God clearing his throat.
8 June 2007
Morning star in the still of the clear, dark waters.
a sky as clear eyed as a young girl.
bruised and tattered storm remnants limp off in the gathering light.
9 June 2007
Tickled her fancy.
giggling all the day long.
pretty good for a Saturday.
Clouds on the lake floating aimlessly by.
She smiled big–grinned really.
12 JUne 2007
A silver sky
ripe for the mirror.
you can not see yourself in this mirror
you can only see others
moreover, you can only see what others choose to expose.
Their houses, their boats, their sea-doos.
Birds skimming low over the water could
like as not
see them selves if they were to look down
as they skim low over the water
but they never do.
Rather they allow their reflections to chase them
quick and sharp over the still, glistening waters
while the bird’s mind remains ever fixed on
food, or other birds, or escaping those damn noisy humans.
A dense forest impenetrable as a gaze.
13 JUne 2007
Like angry bee’s eyes
the metal screen seen through the bamboo blinds.
A million insects dot the lake spreading micro ripples
14 June 2007
Of Fly Catchers and hidden lakes.
Of sleeping lizards and morning dew.
It is of birdsong and misty dawns
and fleeced clouds floating in a still pool.
The waters ripple awake in the gathering morn.
The first water birds head out for the far shore.