The Spirit whispers across the waters:
An egret crouches low with its feathers.
The snap of a large fish’s tail
Disturbs the quiet of my malaise.
A turtle suns himself in the haze.
Dragonflies hum their bladed wings
Over tongues of grass covered with droplets of rain.
Yellow flowers peak from tufts of grass at the shoreline.
A rotting log breaks the surface of the water like a crocodile.
Downed leaves eddy over the rocky bottom
Of the stream bed, harboring schools of minnows
That will turn larger after tomorrow’s tomorrow,
A reverse of yesterday’s downward spiral of sorrow.
Then the fisher of men reminds me
With the prick of blades of grass on my legs
And the deepest parts within me
To focus on what I see–
Not me–but the beauty of our Father.
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