brink of night
flowers fade from lack of light and I crawl soundlessly back and forth
breathing
wilderness stretches
sublime reaches
wondering what the Lord is up to;
showering dust of gold like petals in a field of poppies bursting
red glory forming pattern beyond distance assailing my eyes like needles
that thrust their point into unbroken love of the sun's tempestuous rays
go and find
a billion blushing readies to take hold of blueberries root
as currants come and go; perfect fruit for forage
I am anchored heavy by gold of God's good grace whose countenance ever shines
reminding me of my place as servant of others' needs
careful calls to crawling
cats that cautious catch
curious canaries convening
watching outcome of wretch
bend to point of break
ache heal as days pile on
concede to point of zeal that
awaits the patient song
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