Clouds roiled by,
doubling their chins.
clearing their throats
over and again,
sending echoes down the line.
Veins popped on their foreheads,
razor lights split the tension–
flash points of interruption.
Then the weeping,
sobbing, lubrication of
pent up anger mixed
with distraught.
A million-billion tears
distilled in sheets,
form rivulets
on the overlooked
guttural indentations
of the world’s skin.
It is for the birds I climb the fully extended ladder hoping my son can break my fall should I lose my balance. The wing-ed ones which God said are under His care. The sparrows which worry not, but flit around, plucking and chattering, waking me before the set alarm.
“Bring in the birds, Lord, so I remember Your grace. So I can ease off the hustle of life and know Your love and forgiveness is worth more than tuppence, yet a tuppence of faith is all that You ask.
When Your grace flies into view today, I will thank You.
Oh God, how my heart beats me up.
Its own rod and staff comfort me not.
My face runs flat with self-control.
My figuring has no end.
My passions, frail, off balance
Lead me beside myself
Where no water is.
Then a mockingbird flew silently by,
And I heard a hummingbird remember the lyrics.
A cardinal blushed.
A raven was its own shadow.
The fog lifted my countenance
Enough to see the mystery of You.
The Thou of this I.
You suggested I lighten up
As the sun crested a weary scape.
Ah, the light by which I see
You.
Then we laughed.
Gerald the Writer 