winter grass

Each nothing becomes adventure
The sharpness of November’s wind
The song of winter grasses in crisp harmonics
A distant call, to us for sure
For you and I, we are nature
Joined by God for just such a day

There! an insignificant miracle goes
And our seeing gives it meaning
A thing defined, moment stolen
And pocketed in our memory book
A wayward grandchild will know this day
On a rumpled knee some years hence

This day, we remembered to share.

4 Comments

  1. EagleAye says:

    Love this. I often feel this way when out hiking. Feeling the breeze across my skin, and listening to the tinkling of a nearby stream. Such moments are precious.

    Love this pic. Sometimes I see vegetation forming textures, and I find it fascinating. I almost always take a pic when I see this, like in the wheat you captured.

    1. Thanks. When I go hiking on the weekends, I like to tell people I’m at my church. I don’t know how to reconnect otherwise.

      1. EagleAye says:

        Same here. Nature is my church and the place where I enthusiastically give thanks. I don’t care if anybody else understands that or not. It works for me.

  2. Hanno Phenn says:

    You really touched me. Thank you.

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