Friday, February 20, 2015

Rush-hour




 The sun is no longer cradled in the crook of the tree's arm when it rises...a sign of spring-things:)...and oh, it climbs the sky so quickly. I snapped these in approx. 90 seconds. ..as a sort of rush ran through me sensing Mystery soon to be history beneath this hurried molten orb...

Pink pales
Time’s grail tips hallelujahs from
A sacred jar
And none can see
The sea
Where all
Unopened moments are
But soft upon
Time’s gaping yawn
Dawn’s darkness dissipates
And morning like a
Glory-song
Rushes through
Ruby gates
And we who stand beholding
Light igniting every curve
Can only think to whisper
What a mighty God we serve

© Janet Martin

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