Blessings

This morning, early for a plane bound northward,
I saw a flock of sparrows lost indoors
who landed at arm's length, then at a hair's breadth
above me soared.

And when I flew just lower than the angels,
so far and farther on my thinking sped,
I saw things clearly that 'til then were tangled
and wove their threads.

Alighting, I walked out into the forest
where fallen leaves red-carpeted the ground
like silk or cloth-of-gold laid out before me,
or dreams unbound.

How can it be that you are mindful of me,
as if your care were all for my delight?
How can it be, O God, that you so loved me
that there was light?

But so it is: I wander in your garden
and find at every step you've laid a feast.
O Lord, I did not know that I was starving
'til you said, “Eat.”

I take and eat, and you fill every morsel.
I drink the wine, and you run in my veins.
When still I thirst, this spirit still you pour so
in autumn rains.

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Roadway to Lindsey Lake in David Crockett State Park, located a half mile west of Lawrenceburg, Tennessee. By Christopher Hollis – Own work. The image appears on my my website., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5509905

Living Waters

From spring to river streams will go,
and rivers to the sea,
and when the living waters flow,
Lord, let them rise in me.

For I have thirsted these long days
while fountains run no more,
and now bone-dry I wait for pain—
Somewhere your waters pour.

Like sentinels await the dawn,
I wait for clouded skies,
for rivers rolling ever on,
for fallen waves to rise,

for creeks to laugh until they weep,
for cataracts to shout.
I know that deep calls out to deep
while I sit here in drought.

But you, who closed in doors the sea,
set hills not to be moved,
if you have closed these doors in me,
Lord, let me call it good.

Is this the fasting that you wish?
Not to my name but yours 
be all the glory, even if
the waters never pour.

Niagara Falls, from the American Side (Frederic Edwin Church, 1867) – qQE5jAFm16XHjQ at Google Cultural Institute maximum zoom level, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21865696

The Canyon

At midnight, stars reflected in the river,
'til one got up and shot across the sky.
Another angel falling out of heaven?
No: firefly.

The crickets filled the stillness with their chorus;
a riverbank of frogs is counterpoint
as night lays out its wonders all before us.
The dark anoints

'til pale cliffs catch the light of early morning
and conqu'ring dawn surmounts the hillside's pow'r.
A herald birdsong greets the day a-borning:
the bright'ning hour.

And then the river gleams back at the glory:
Deep calls to deep, and blue proclaims to blue,
and not a word is lost of all their story
who call to you.

Between the river and the light of heaven,
the canyon's arms encircle all the world.
An element of this, I feel it given
and praise you, Lord.

Sumidero Canyon, Mexico By Sgroey – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=117035720