Poetry

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The simple joy of doing
something for God;
or with HIM.

Serving Him
in small ways
throughout the day.

A cup of cold water
and song in in my heart.

When I am tired
I say HELP!

When there is a
line of people
I focus on Him.
I say inside: JESUS
JESUS, JESUS.

After the rush
I catch it:
some beauty -
wheat blowing
in the wind;
So soft, like a caress
and I become a cat
on the lap of Yahweh.

Throughout the day
I come
cranky or
grateful -
as I am -
and you receive me,
you revive me
and sometimes
wink at me -
disturbing my
serious stance.

Life is not
what they say it is -
not for you and me.
They are busy busy busy.

It is just our time
of repose.

A cup of tea
a window
a comfy chair
a pen and
once again
zoning as I stare
out the window.

We meet again
as the haze is erased
and replaced by
this place of grace.

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