Wildflowers Calling Forth the Sun

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We are made from many streams, aren’t we? pieces of a larger river twisting

through open fields, our lives as a meadow thirsting, for nourishment, with wildflowers….

calling forth the sun, to the mud on the shoreline, we sense, we learn our direction,

becoming the very grain we dream about, and allowing the wind to gently move

through us, in the fields.

          

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Note: This may sound mystical but it’s actually about our hearts and whatever faith life we have.

In These Woods

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What words can I shape, to tell that in these woods

I am made strong?

That hope runs deep here,

through the veins of oak

and pine, and maple trees,

through the earth

lives the permanence 

the assurance of oneness 

where there are no shadows

to be afraid of,

how can I ever express Lord God

that I am never alone,

covered in the warmth

of the blue sky.

      

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies