A Picture of Peace

White lily

Serenity is not the absence of wind,

But the assurance of an anchor.

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Known

canyon trail

 

Be still, my heart, in safety wait

For all that’s good from heaven’s gate;

Serene, beat soft in tender tone –

With every cadence, you are known.

~

Thank you, Paul, for the reminder that I am seen and known!

Winter Woodworker

art.jpg

Bevelled edges,

meadow’s crown moulding,

intricate detailing in Artisan’s craft;

 woodworker’s tools sit silent,

not daring to break the

 sound barrier.

Worship

I whisper, so as not to interrupt,

but your eyes see  Another, and my presence

melts into the recesses of the Cathedral;

my footsteps echo hollow on grass and stone.

Kneeling in reverence,

you rise above me to a secret place,

a cleft in the Rock;

and I am left behind, in this plane –

yearning, always yearning.

Even I can see

that in prostration, you achieve elevation;

you lift up your head

and bow your heart

and step over the threshhold

into worship…

Serenity’s Lullaby

Liquid sunshine, rays of gold

Dappled ‘neath the shade

Trickling water, springtime brook

Lending liquid-ade

Grass and mushroom, tree and thorn

Reaching to the sky

Froggy chorus, forest hymn –

Serenity’s lullaby

My Mother’s Day treat was to go for a family hike along a local river, searching for ‘The Rock’.  There is a huge rock, covered with fossils, lying within the riverbed.  Large enough for our family of four to picnic on, we haven’t been to visit for several years.  To access the river proper, we ford a brook – and its damp shores are smothered in marsh flowers.   The Rock was not to be accessed this year – the water level was too high.  But the hike was lovely – and the serenity of Nature at her best drew out this little verse.  Isn’t our world magnificent?