Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Countryside



My hair is swept into a tornado frenzy, twisting wildly, whipping against my face.

I grab to catch all the strands and shove them deeply into my jacket hood.

Leaves flutter to and fro like ribbons twirling in the wind, branches stretching to the sky.

The breeze shifts and a few leaves break free to spin and ride to the ground.

Strands of hair escape, pages of my book flap madly.

All is calm despite the wind and I turn my face towards the glint on the pond.

Long reeds dance and nod at the water's edge, lily pads drift on the ripples.

Wisps of creatures-- wings, twitters, chirps all around.

Music of the countryside-- a bark in the distance, a hint of a train whistle.

These carry upon the breeze with the scent and coolness of Fall.

Divine melody-- you are in and through and over it all.

Captured by rest, beauty, and your glory, I give you praise.

Unlike the wind, you are constant North-- never displaced.









{photo credit:  http://homeguides.sfgate.com}



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