A DEEP, COOL MEADOW
Dedicated to my late sister, Suzanne who would have been sixty-five today.
July 8, 2012
As I sit in the deep, cool meadow
nor making a sound,
The birds greet each other wildly
with melodic notes.
Joyful flowers nod hello
to the jumbling bumblebees.
Innocent creatures who name it home,
gather, hop, sip, and nibble
conducting business of the woods.
If I sit in the deep, cool meadow
no words or gestures to disturb,
if I listen, closely listen
will I hear the words of God?
If I raise not voice or hand
only watch with marveling eye
at this world that blooms, sprouts,
is born or hatched, then
wilts, dies, and born again,
Will I see the hand of God?
As I sit the deep, cool meadow
standing as temporary sentinel,
knowing no man has any claim to it’s existence.
Even a single green leaf
is beyond his abilities.
Though he boasts of worlds full,
no credit or thanks does man deserve.
As I sit in the deep, cool meadow,
I humbly thank the First Creator.
I, too, am one of these perfect creations,
who will pass quickly pass through.
I can only hope to hear the call
that will lead me home, again
to the deep, cool meadow and you.