Spring Morning After Berry
As morning fog billows on the pasture hillside
at the intersection of dawn and full light,
the great boiling ball creates glistening diamond dew
crowning brome, curly dock, red clover, and alfalfa.
Accompanying is the caw of red-wing blackbird
underneath the melody of western meadowlark.
Chicks that have left their brooder,
scratch their way to what is good and healthful.
I am arrested in the moment
standing in still air, toes soaked,
arms akimbo with fists at my hips.
Sounds are pure and clear as I squint at the rising orb
when even the wing feather of passing dove is heard.
I suppress the reel of the city
winding me in to itself.
Pausing here, in this bucolic moment,
I breathe easy and even,
my shoulders and neck decompress
and I feel creation’s power as God’s gift of love,
this our intended home
where worship feels natural and right.
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