Sunday, 10 July 2016


Before daybreak
The leaves are still
All is hush
Save for the flapping wings
And morning chatter
Among feathered friends

As the golden globe
Rewarding us
With light to see
God's new mercies,
The shadows flee

In their rush
They leave behind a breeze
That rustles leaves
The rat race begins
The din of driving
Distracts us
From this better thing

We descend the mountain
And resume the business
Of another day
Keeping at bay the busyness,
The flapping
And rustling rush

Our souls quieted
To hear a still small voice,
To breathe in
The perfumed air
And see every bush aflame
Lit by the sun
July 17, 2014

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