Sometimes I just don't want to listen. Sometimes the back ground noise of life mutes what God wants to say. Sometimes, though my ears are open and I hear God in the most interesting ways and places.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

When

When butter melts into the toast
When a robin juts its chest out
When a five year old dimple speaks
When a classic guitar introduces “Blackbird”
When I hear Barbara’s voice on the end of the line

This is when the dust in the pan is forgotten
This is when the tides of life hush those of death

When the sound of machines are put into the closet
When outside the stars wink through the oaks veins
When silence is remembered and it shuts my mouth
When frost filled air settles on my burning eyes
When being still invites knowing

This is when the length of days is measured
Not in coffee spoons but momentary trances
and deep breaths of God

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