Today is Day 19 Thank you for joining me. May you have eyes to discover and unwrap, the poetry in your Sunday.
And listen to the music. Of poetry.
This is no ordinary day.
Hallelujah.
Oh, Poetry
Childishness
Today is Day 17 Have I told you lately that I am grateful. For you. Thanks for reading along here. Your presence is a gift.
Yesterday I chased butterflies around my yard. Two lead me on a wild goose chase through the grass that clings to summertime. Under a canopy of azure blue, I chased down a pair of clementine orange butterflies. Their unbridled energy and speed nearly had me winded as they zigzagged and zag zigged around my butterfly bushes. Diving in and out with the agility and speed of a pair of greyhounds with wings.
I wondered. Why aren’t you on your way to Mexico?
And I wondered what one would think. Yes, the one’s driving by my house. Spying a grown woman with her camera phone, chasing butterflies. Or perhaps they wouldn’t see these smallish beauties and think I was chasing a dream. Or the wind. Or the sun’s rays on my lawn.
I struggled to keep up. Their play was so crazy. Ebullient. Frenzied. They were a pair of frenetic playmates. Calling me to enter in. And I, a willing chaser of whimsy. On the hunt for pure delight.
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I hung the moon and the stars. Under the lights. Framed a little spot of whimsy on my porch. Sometimes I think it would be better suited for a child’s nursery than the porch of a 114 year old Victorian house. But I love it. And if you ride by my house I hope you smile. And more than that I hope you crave play and laughter. Joy and whimsy.
Childishness.
Childlikeness and joy. Wonder and wondering. Freedom to stop and play alone in your own front yard.
May you find time to play. To laugh. To give chase after the smallest delights that hover on the fringes of your world.
And be refreshed by the simple beauty of it all.
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My beautiful friend, Laura Boggess from Laura Boggess dot com, has a wonderful new book. Playdates with God: Having a Childlike Faith In A Grown-up World, available on Amazon, is currently sold out! (This is an indicator of how fabulous Laura’s writing, voice and heart are.) Laura has people longing for God and falling in love with a spirit of playfullness. Today’s post takes inspiration from Laura and her book. You will want to order a copy for yourself and your peeps.
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Wishful Thinking
Welcome to Day 16. Thank you for joining me on this journey. To read all posts in this series, click on the page tab marked #write31days at the top of my home page. Poetry has returned after taking Wednesday off. More prose awaits around the dusty bend.
Wishful Thinking
If I took the reigns for just a day
Took charge and had control, choreographer
Of each hour
Of the night and day
I would give the morning more
Morphing all the hours into
Break of, early, mid
Stopping at noonday
Morning’s sunrise slow and sure
Would have till noon
To spread her blinding sunburst wings
Across the sleepy sky
And I
Would let the shadows slow dance
Silhouetted ghosts at play
I’d give the early morning all she’d need
To
Let the dew stay
More than just a little while
Linger longer
Unhurried on each blade of emerald
Grass, like glass
Never to evaporate
Tell her that her morning chill
Can have all day
To brush across the faces
Of those who take their time to wake
And breathe their smokey breathes
I’d crown morning
Queen
Let her reign
Over every living thing
If I had my way
I’d never have to say
Good bye my dear
Or wave a sad goodbye
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Silence: Soul Soil
Day 15 – Welcome. It is quiet around here. (To catch up on this 31 Day Series, click the tab at the top of my home page.)
Silence feeds my soul. I sit in the thick cloud of quiet and breathe in nutritious nothing. Stoke the burning embers of my spirit with more air from quiet spaces. Creativity lives there. Peace and calm attend me. It is as if I am starving for the deafening quiet. Thoughts parade through my mind on their sock footed silent march. Pat pat pat. Like cotton balls sneaking down the stairs. Tumbleweeds blow from the cobwebbed corners of my imagination places.
I am haunted by a holy hush. Muted moments merge into my mind.
And nearly every quiet moment feeds my hunger.
And yet I am filled with a guilty wondering. Why the wiring that is me needs portions of quiet that could feed four families for a fortnight.
Why my margins are so wide, that the world runs in a narrow single lane highway down my life. Is this a guilty pleasure, this seeking silence. Or is it the soul-food required for my survival. No, for my thriving. Creatively, joyfully, abundantly and wonderfully.
Do I choose quiet. Or does quiet choose me. Did I move into the quiet places out of a new sense of hunger and desire. Or did my soul finally settle into itself as a seeker of quiet. A needer of buffers for creating and pondering. For growing and giving
Silence, my soul’s soil. I embrace it. Inhale it. And give thanks for it in my world.
And when the dark clouds of loud and clanging change come, unwelcome in my world, may I have the grace to bend. Extend my hand to the invaders of my muffled space.
And say, this too is for my soul. This season of more noise and less quietude. This season of more chaos and less simplicity. Oh may my heart open the door and let some of the world’s noise in.
Spread my peace, share my peace. Release my peace. To another.
And celebrate that this is where God has made me to be and live, in the abundant place of silence. With prayerful thanks.
May I wait with patience for the return of silence, to come and feed my soul again.
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elizabeth w. marshall 