Friday, July 9, 2010

Rest

I went down the hill through the mist and the rain,
while the phlox swayed goodby from the garden’s edge.

There on gray, wood-post next to the creek, God’s heart burst out to me from a Wood Thrush’s breast and my mind laid its busy self, right down to rest.

One moment in the arms of Him who causes water and mist and birds to sing hymns.

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