Luster

Blue
Full Sturgeon
Green Corn
Grain
and
Full Red

I, too
drape myself in names

Time may cause the cloth
to hang and shift
but the form that
pushes out from beneath
is still true
even when it is dark
as
pitch

Luster
that is your secret
for you are
diligent and faithful
and
your reward
is radiance
the kind that illuminates
shadowed
shapes

Perhaps
I should take heed
and observe
that the changing of garments
without
a vision

Is not the same
thing
as the slow march
of time
across the sky
as the music
of the spheres
sparkles
glory

++++++++++++++++
Linking with Emily for Imperfect Prose

photo credit: Tim Fields on Flickr

Foretaste

"In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary."  ~Aaron Rose

The daylight has shifted, quietly
and now it gently wanes.
Days are still warm and locusts still drone
but the world is tilting
and we adjust our steps
despite ourselves.

I watch as the sunlight
crackles through the emerald leaves
and the swaying shaking boughs
are clapping
right out
and I know it
down deep

That this dripping delicious daylight
is but a
foretaste...

You can find the rest of my poem over at SheLoves Magazine today. 

Would love to have you join me there.

The Weight of Glory

I weigh more, today, than I ever have in my entire life.

The realization of this settled in heavily as I stepped off the scale this morning. On the very days that I delivered my previous two babies I did not weigh as much as I do today.

And I still have two months to go.

There is a part of me that is shaking her head, disbelieving the numbers on the scale, dismissing them as aberrations. Surely there must be some mistake.

Then there are other parts of me that feel every.single.one of those pounds. My feet. My thighs. My back.

But then the all of me? The entirety of who I am? Heart and mind and soul?
Well, that girl has simply chosen to place this knowledge down deep and ponder.

It has been nearly a decade since I last harbored life within my body. Ten years since I gave myself over to a miracle and watched with wonder as my body stretched and pulled and created joy untold.

And ten years is really just a flash in the pan when you consider the ways of God. The One who has been shaping and molding and weaving great somethings out of nothing is not discomfited by time.

Nor age.

Nor weight.

So I am choosing not to worry about what a scale that measures pounds may say. No. I will choose, instead, to embrace the marvelous mystery my body proclaims every day.

I am partnering with God in creation.
And that is no small thing.

Every day I watch my belly rise and roll, like a mighty ocean whose mysteries are hidden deep and wide, and I laugh at the utter absurdity that I would be chosen for a task so noble.

I feel every hiccup and every flutter of surprise and I am reminded that every little thing in heaven and on Earth is witnessed and that nothing escapes God's grasp.

With every attempt to roll over in bed with grace, with every stair I determinedly climb, and with each heavy plodded step I make I am simply bearing the weight of glory. For this baby making is resplendent work and some days I glow golden.

My every day is a miracle and this heaviness I feel?

It is love.


Photo credit: Aidan Grantham