Like Psalms of Spring (Vignette)


Bring to me, sun.
Leave my hair golden
from the warmth of you.
Let mist curl locks,
my shadow stretching,
falling; growing strong
in your presence.
In your rushing wind,
let me be.


May my feet feel firm
on your breaking ground
and every step, steady,
flowered, on fertile soil,
and if it shakes, keep me still.
Make my heart an umbrella;
your rain falling soft,
but abundant,
like rivers
from the heavens.


Let every weeping willow bow,
like me, on these knees
looking up
at the glory of you.
Keep me humble;
songs flowing soft
from quivering lips
upon a wooden flute
and ten fingers
strumming harps
Feed me prophetic language
to lift me higher
and so much closer
to you.



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