Turning a page

 

 

 

 

 

despite the bruising

 

 

 

there it is
on a day
full of gray

the sun
failing to sparkle
to fill with warmth
and the happy
we chase

clouds scuttling
fast and furious
across a landscape

and behind
a window

a canvas
and an easel
standing ready
to capture
this story
in shades
of swirling silvers
and grays
and
incandescent
light

dipping a brush
into melancholy
a day crushing
with the weight
of exquisite

in seeing light
more like
a pearl
seeping through
the barrage
of dark

and reminded

many hearts
fragile today
and
emotions swirling too
because
stories broken
and the fiber
of feel good
missing
like the sun

and in looking
through
that window

a masterpiece
starring back
at me

because

despite
the bruising
from a world
aching
so full of scarcity
and longing
the not enough
catching breaths
and deflating lives
in the lack

there really is

beauty

and a purpose
to our lives

in these days
both sun-filled
and not

if we but look

and pausing
to look beyond

into the mystery
of Glory
showing up
all the time

there it is

monday mornings sometimes

darkness

looming outside

in the early

of a morning

rain pending

tall pines

and lush green

the landscape

standing

at attention

perfectly still

waiting

even the

birds

knowing

announcing

before

the first

crack

of

thunder

before

the wind

eddying

and

stirring

before

the trees

waving

about

their 

leaf laden

arms

before

even

the pines

joining

the dance

there is a

pause

a languid

sort of

waiting

a sweet

anticipation

of surely

what is to come

drinking it in

savoring

the moment

before

a sky 

opening

and a

downpour

merciless

droplets falling

staccato

hammering

a street

thrumming

on rooftops

relentless rain

beauty surrounding

unexpected

maybe

this

God-driven

goodness

ushering in

something

as

sweet

as

summer