by Josette Davison

Wandering…

Through fields of tiny flowers

Mindful not to tread on them

I wonder…does God hear me?

Hear my prayer?

 

Why am I here?

Stumbling over stones

His answer comes

In a trinity of bright violets

Blooming midst the rocks

 

In the whisper of trees

In bird song — in scented air

He speaks to me

Answers my prayer

I hear — I care —

by J.D.

Put no claim on the holy,

For we are as vulnerable as the field mice

Playing among the tall grasses

Hiding beneath the strawberry vines

For God roars in with the morning,

Spilling the new day’s pain over his shoulder

And all we can do

Is all we have ever done.

Open ourselves to the light

When it comes;

Let light enter us

Until we become the Flame

the Burning Bush