 |
| Duncan Campbell - South Beaver Creek, OR |
these crickets in the cool August evening
await the rise of a solitary traveler.
Reaching into the darkened sky
accustomed to silence for her prayers
eyes gaze aloft for answers only You can give
Dropping low to the open field
crystalline light bathes every blessed cell
slowing breezes, stillness returns, breathing settles
Confronting a fully honest face
her wearied heart senses its wounds bound up
by every silver beam radiating downward.
Remaining here she is at peace.
Her face a grain of sand on the vast beach
yet illuminated by Your willingness to stoop.
That is Your secret, is it not?
We are imperfect reflections of light.
Honesty, vulnerability, humility
She offers You these and her dreams
for the gift of Your love.
No comments:
Post a Comment