This Holy Hush...

'The poet’s heart within us craves the holy hush.'

This is the last line in yesterday's Daily Bread Devotion..

My oldest sister called around 8:00 to see if I had read it yet,

and if it inspired any writing at my end😀 (bless her heart)

I had read it a few hours earlier as a quick devotion 

before an early morning tots-arrival day etc. .Beautiful!

I tried to squirrel the sparks away hoping the iron (or ashes) wouldn't grow too cold...

This, the last paragraph in the devotional, felt a poem :

"Nature sometimes seizes 

our attention in ways 

we don’t like

. Regardless of what happens to us 

or what we observe around us, 

each moment—

magnificent, 

menacing, 

or mundane—

can inspire 

our worship. 

The poet’s heart 

within us craves 

the holy hush."

By Tim Gustafson

'Worship inspired by the ways Nature applies its brush'

The poet's heart within us craves creation's holy hush

Worship inspired by the ways Nature applies its brush

Where That which no one can annul is strange and sweetly drawn 

Toward Something Invisible This Holy Hush will spawn 

In woodland's deep, or break of day, or plush-prism snowfall

Or twilight as it tucks away the rush of beck and call

Or earth after autumn has stripped leaf-mirth from lofty limb

Or August nights stippled with cricket-choir's vibrant hymn

 

...or as we bask in waning winter's pools of golden sun

Where heaven tips a blue flask full of gardens, dream-dirt spun

Or after tot is fast asleep and childish noise subdued

Like the calm after storms that little girls and boys exude 

In the crook of a countryside brook-bank as we recline

Wooed by a wand of willow-frond or wild cucumber vine 

Or as we gaze at silver haze of stars on black backdrop

Or as we drink the winsome ink of rain-song's drip and plop

Or as we taste the brickle from a 'cicle, maple-sweet

Or as we dash with dusty splash through pastures in bare feet

Or as we pause beneath the gauze of apple-blossomed arc

Something we cannot quite explain ignites a sacred spark

The poet's heart within us craves This Holy Hush, God-bent

Worship whispers awe's spark into a blaze of wonderment

Where That which no one can annul is drawn with tender stare  

 Toward Someone Invisible, but also walking there 

 © Janet Martin