Soot clouds splotch their way across the morning sky.
A tribe of red-winged blackbirds sailing free, on high,
Then they descend, bedecking nearby telephone wire:
A jet necklace stringing along, with dots of lively fire;
The birdsong symphony splashes forth with cheering gladness,
Chases away my morning flush of sighing sadness;
All Nature's wonder underlies the trill of tweedle-dee;
Ar-wheedly-dee: release your cares: go free!

Copyright 1996 by Marilee Miller; copying is limited to personal enjoyment and to share with not more than 6 friends.  No public "lists" or other use without permission.



 Lord, today I saw an airyfairy lacywing,
A beauty-thing:
Dragonfly resting on a grass blade:
Not in the shade,
Nor in deep glade,
But sunning itself in parade
Beside the slowdance current of a summerlow creek.
Slenderest body, a neon green iridescence unique;
While the wings -- ah, I could sing
Of such beauty-thing!
Black net gauzy mysterious a'wing,
With black velvet-look tips to bring
Just the joy I seek!
A day like a mountain peak,
Seeing an airyfairy lacywing
Such as I never saw before this week.
No charade,
It was real, and may it persuade
Me not to be afraid
To openly, frankly adore the God I seek.
The Lord who made the dragonfly
Has shaped, also, my heart God-played.

Copyright 1996 by Marilee Miller; copying is limited to personal enjoyment and to share with not more than 5 friends.  No public "lists" without permission.



      The westering sun drops behind a low ridge of hills.  From that same direction, a shroud of fog rolls in.  The sky puts on the shy garb of coming-evening.  Shadows deepen.  Yet to the east, a delicate daylight tone remains.  A pale, pale baby blue sky washes the tops of another band of hilly ridges.

     Overhead, a wispy band of clouds -- transparent enough to see through -- streaks like airline jet vapor-trails. Oh, such a beautiful evening.

      I think to myself: "How could anyone ever see such an incredible panorama, and not know there is a God? And not "sense" the beauty in God, the glory of God?"

      I feel sorry for the people who don't stop to look at, or are unable to appreciate, the wonders of Nature. For in leaf or tree or sky, I see the signature of the Loving God. All of the "works of his fingers" give me hope. For if if his created world can be so beautiful, then the Creator, too, must be beautiful -- and I must be beautiful, as well. On such an evening, it's not hard to believe in God. Or to imagine that he must have a special, one-of-a-kind glory of the Lord, prepared by his loving hands, just for me!

Copyright 1990-2004 by Marilee Miller     Copying is allowed if not for commercial use