Dogwoods

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In the quiet of early spring, our voices will travel over the lake

as we whisper our prayers, and pronounce our dreams

believing there is a beautiful reason

God made dogwoods

and placed them

along our path.

 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

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Regardless

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Having been a man of the spirit, he was surprised at the size of the wound. Clutching, his side, he barely made it to a large rock, where he collapsed.

He realized now, forgiveness was more than a tasty flavor, to make life beautiful again. It really was – a process of healing. He picked himself up, aiming for the top of the ridge……but it seemed impossible. He stumbled…..

He would pray, regardless of how he felt, regardless of how his faith would change. But first he needed the safety of trees, the protection of bark. The age of angels seemed to be over now.

The earth had been given as a gift, a starting place….. he needed to feel safe again…..in order to begin.

   

Note: I am fine, but healing is a process.

 Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

Her Future Glory

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It was a small flame, on a single tree leaning, as if she had been hiding

high in the mountains, on a cool crisp morning,

revealing only a part

of her future glory.

I smiled remembering her fire,

of yellow, gold, and red, so I breathed in

the leaves knowing

we would all be embraced soon,

by the brilliant fire

of autumn.

   

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies