Hymn of Praise

          Hymn of Praise


How quiet
Some days sound
Life, a  hymn of praise
Down beats
Press the  foot pedal to nearly mute

For those who watch

What do they hear
Do they see with the
Ears of their heart
The world is loud
My praise  faint
Breathing breaths of quiet
Praise
Whispered murmurings
From the orchestra pit
Is it music to
Him
The Holy one
Giver of lips from which should flow
I am a piccolo
I am a back row percussionist
Triangle, with one winsome note
To play
My life
A hymn of praise, muted
Some days
Feet don’t fail me now
You should be shaking, rattling,  doing the jitter bug, twist and shout
Rattle them dry bones a little bit louder now
And singing your living more loudly
Quiet
You can hear a pin drop
And no one can hear
Your muffled living.
Please forgive me
Love is buried in the quiet
Living
If  praise falls in the quiet
And no one hears
The hymn
Was it a hymn at all
Volume is overrated
Whispers
The poet

Poetry Amid The Prose

look left look right

Wishing you eyes to discover

A heart to see break through moments when things look dull and grey

A yearning for pause in the busy

Comfort in your pain

Joy where there is fullness

Ears to hear quiet amid the noise

Warmth where the cold has settled in

Wholeness in the broken

Grace in your weekend, grace on your days of week’s end

 a bit of poetry amid all the prose

And the faith to grab hold of His plans for you

The future is bright in the light of His love.

rhodadendron and the blue sky heavenward

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Joining Sandra Heska King for Still Saturday

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