Across the heaven
a line of light
opens the day
while another
marks the night.
Beneath the skies
we sleep then wake
alive to the morning.
The voice of God
rises tender and sweet,
a green sprout of corn
to comfort us
while seeds of the eternal
take moisture from the well within
and a spark of life
struck on the old stone of faith
fires the miracle
of our deepest dreams.
photograph by Patrick Orleman
Don, this fits well with the Irish Girl. Thanks.
Gracias por este!
This poem, like so many of your creations, touched me deeply…thank you for continually reminding me/us of what is true.
The starting line of each morning, and of my life, necessitates spiritual activation. The ending line of dusk, and of my life well lived, properly requires I carefully fold the aspects of my day, and my life, with pride of having served well. Thank you, Don.
Such exquisite beauty in these few words. Thank you Don. db
Very evocative. I’m down under currently and watch first light each morning. Great stuff.
Keep bringing beauty into the world with your words. They open doors otherwise shut.
What awesome,compellings images,Don!
I love this, Don! Thank you. You speak for my deepest heart.
That touched me deeply Don. Thank you
This touches me, too. Thank you.