Feeling tall, huge in fact,
Towering over the others I see in front of me,
My height, noticed before, places me above all,
Not in a controlling way,
I feel separated, as if I wasn’t there,
Yet I am strangely more present,
Waiting for some response from God,
Who placed me here to observe something new.
Which I do, but cannot discern its meaning.
When I see the rock, I am unsure of what may be ahead.
A cooled down fragment of creation,
Heated beyond imagination, yet somehow solid,
Sturdy, ready to be felt underfoot,
To help me be uplifted if I want to climb,
Giving me views and vistas of my dominance of the earth when I reach the top.
Or perhaps, just to recognize my smallness.
Where is the swimming gear,
Lost in the packing of summer clothes from a season gone by,
Now reminded by the tulips and the ever-growing lawn,
Needing my attention.
My soul longs for the island and its flags.
Drying on a salty evening sun.
The flower shows its petals,
Like luminescent windows, light is caught in its tracks,
Turning on the beauty previously unnoticed,
And now clear for all to see.
Can I shine a light on something today?
Springtime, the season for planting anew.
The crop of last season is devoured and gone,
Time to think again.
What I might reap this season.
Dependent on what I sow, and how I tend it.
Not stained glass, made by an artist,
But nevertheless, created by the dirt of years,
Traffic, perhaps even wagons,
Grab onto you, fused by raindrops,
Until eventually. Nothing can be seen.
Yet the light still passes through,
Giving hope a way forward,
To a clearer way.