Before you read today’s poem, can I encourage you to come and visit me at a friend’s house? I am excited to announce that I have recorded me very first vlog! Yes, you can actually see me and hear my voice..okay now I’m nervous…I’ll be there later today at Amy L. Sullivan’s place doing the impossible…explaining my favorite non-profit organization in 60 seconds…
Welcome to our Thanksgiving play place! We are taking on a challenge as a community to write poetry together. Each day I will provide a picture and a line of poetry. Your job is to leave a line of your own in the comment section. I will provide a new prompt and picture and a poem created by all of us the following day! Will you take time for a little wordplay?
We are
God containers
Full of self
or full of Him
Death By Beauty
by Journey Toward Epiphany Community
Golden jewels in cornflower blue sky;
a parasol of leaves,
filtering light overhead
and I wonder, will I sparkle with one last burst of beauty before I die?
Or will I fade slowly,
losing lustre one molecule
after another,
finally fading to nothing;
and all that remains
is cornflower blue sky.
Morning sky bluer than grandson’s eyes
Waning moon still high in west
His Word assures Springtime and harvest
As He sows, so He reaps.
We are born, live, and die.
Yet we are not annual;
We shall live forever,
perrenial,
Not just for a single season,
When we live in His love.
the grass withers
but His promises shine bright,
they never wanes.
He rides high on wings of wind
and tiptoes across the clouds
how could I not love Him so?
Sharing moments of gratitude with Ann:
296. I made it through a difficult week.
297. I have had the pleasure of editing community poetry.
298. My son treated me to a salted caramel mocha…yum…
299. My fabulous volunteers at Love INC.
300. I got to celebrate an upcoming marriage at a wedding shower.
301. Learning to trust…
302. Finished my first vlog and was featured over at Amy’s!!
Meeting with Michelle:
Learning from Laura:
I am stone, durable
I am steel, soaring
I am wood, warm,
I am God’s house,
Built by His hands.
Sorry, my stuff is kinda weak today. 😦
I am God’s house – holy temple of His Spirit – an earth suit of flesh that fails too often yet desires holiness. Temple made with love mortar, redeemed bricks, cracked pots. Yet I am holy as He is holy and I am loved.
Father, help me keep it clean, this place where your glory dwells.