change

sun streams hot upon my feet

through windows streaked

by the freeze/thaw of winter

melting snow drips 

off roof tops

and though the threat

of more

frozen precipitation

lingers, I am ready

much more than ready

for Spring to dig in

heels, claim her ground

unfolding full with new life

here sit I, hot footed

on the cusp of change 

more profound than season 

to season, a breaking out

turned upside down, full

circle turn, I am ready

much more than ready

for soon to become now

for questions to be silenced

by answers, fears stilled

by the reality of a life

my mind can not yet

imagine

winds blow strong today

in the heat of the sun

calling in

a contagion of refreshing

 

wolves can wait

wind blowing cold

wild again

low moan background 

music to my morning

tension strums nerves

no whispering

breeze this clamoring 

wail demanding answers

I have no reply

curl up small

in fleecy protection

warm the wolves

can wait another day

back at the bar with the poets

warm side of the glass

on the warm side

of the glass I am

holding fast against

the wind

symphony of knocks

whistles, cries

leaves dance mid air

as branches crack

splinter on the narrow road

covered far too soon

with snow

hanging out with the poets today

 

tenacious cling

winds are gusting fierce this morning

blowing the nighttime 
clouds of darkness 

across the morning sky

the yard 
mowed yesterday 

before the rain

is covered 
with foliage curling up 
to die in brown, gold
screaming yellow

yet there are leaves

that cling hard 
to branches both tenacious 
and stubborn they tremble 

in the storm

willing themselves to live 
for moments longer

every bit of them focused 
on the fight

how much easier to let go

surrendered 
to the wind

take me, then

I whisper

wherever You will

this is Day 1 of 31 days of surrender

also linking with the poets, hanging out at the pub today

 

Waiting for a storm

Hot winds blowing strong
how long
before a storm moves in?

Branches almost sweeping ground
how soon
before the sound of cracking?

Safe but almost numb inside
how deep
this restless need to fly

Humidity haze honey thick
how long, how soon, how deep 
will fall the rain?


 

Not quite Spring

It is again a time of waiting
Spring drifts in skittish
her fragrance lingers
only brief moments
before taking flight

taste and see
taste and see
sweet mingles spice
yet He Is good

rain chills the air
refusing to fall
new growth awaits
the water
and the warm

each page I turn
speaks of surrender
letting go
letting Him

while the April winds sing

patience is a lesson that takes a lifetime to learn...

Noticing Him everywhere with Jennifer




and Emily



 

The world awash

We had a winter of white, more snow than most could recall, and the heavy rains that followed washed it all away but left flooding behind.

Not a lake, but a meadow waits here for drying winds to blow.  The air is filled with songs.  Seagulls, ducks and frogs call out in their rejoicing.

What is inconvenient for man proves enjoyable to a group of pelicans.

As for us, we live on high sandy ground.  The excess moisture has created extravagance.  Lush. 

I will spend my afternoon in the breezy sunlight, riding the lawn tractor, nothing to do but worship and pray as I complete the first cutting of the year.

Another cycle of breath. Exhale winter weariness.  Inhale new life. 


Stop by L. L. Barkat's Seedlings in Stone to read more Monday views

I Am the wind

The large, long wind chimes that hang from the eaves on the South side of the house have been ringing and moaning loud and low since Sunday evening.  The wind has been steady and strong.  I felt I was to read Romans 8, then I sensed God had something to say about the wind this morning, so I opened my ears and my journal:

Just as the winds have been blowing fierce across your land, do I, by My Spirit, blow across your lives, clearing away the old to prepare the way for the new.

When the gusts are so strong that you feel you will be swept away if you don't hold on to something - remember - all that is created by man is subject to fall, burn, fly away in the wind - so hold on to Me and Me alone.

Yes, this is the threshing floor, little one.  This is the Potter's wheel.  This is the Refiner's fire.

There is more pain in struggle than in surrender.

Trust that I know what I Am creating.

That's why I don't think there's any comparison between the present hard times and the coming good times. The created world itself can hardly wait for what's coming next. Romans 8:18 The Message

It will be for My glory.

An interesting note:

When I had completed my journaling and quiet time, I logged in to the internet, as usual.  I can't count how many references to Romans 8 I encountered in my first few minutes online.  I love when He confirms His Word.

Sounds of the wind

A long low
wail, this prairie
spans.

The aching wind
cries, a heart
fractured
splintered like ice.

Laughs
a spirit uplifted
joyous
in praise.

Shatters
all we thought
we understood
leaving behind
fresh, free air.

Stop by One Stop Poetry and read more from other One Shot poets.

Refresh Restore. Renew.

The winds again beat against our windows; create havoc with the large, low wind chimes that hang from the front eaves. All night we hear the music, both mellow and fierce.

Snow on the ground is nothing close to solid here, instead it is in constant change, shifting shapes, drifting and re-drifting recreating the landscape hourly.

We listen. We watch. We wonder.

And this morning the Lord said:

Just as the rains came and came and continued to fall in the Spring, so now blows the wind.

For I Am cleaning your land. And that which has been buried will be exposed. And that which has been hidden will be washed into the light. And all that has exalted itself will be brought low.

Confession is your place of safety as you run to Me. Do not allow the enemy to convince you to run from Me as if could hide.

I Am the only hiding place.

Refreshing.  Renewal.  Rebirth.  All this by His hand.  When we turn.  When we cry out as David did, confessing our sin, our need to be cleansed and restored.

Purify me from my sins, and I will be clean;
wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.
Oh, give me back my joy again;
you have broken me—
now let me rejoice.
Don’t keep looking at my sins.
Remove the stain of my guilt.
Create in me a clean heart, O God.
Renew a loyal spirit within me.
Do not banish me from your presence,
and don’t take your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and make me willing to obey you.  Psalm 51:7-12 NLT

Here am I, Lord, help me be willing to be willing.  I am hungry for the joy that comes from resting in the palm of Your hand even as that hand sifts and strips away.  Here am I, humbled and struck with awe.

Refresh.  Restore.  Renew.  For the sake of Your name.

Visit Peter Pollock's to read what others are sharing this week on Renewal.