the trees reach up, green dendrites
arching to shock the sky.
the grey roughly kisses them, the wind
a crushing swaying embrace.
the robins are hopping close
the jays are screaming for it
then the sky cracks in half like
a fresh egg...
You walk through this mad earth-love, as
fat raindrops leap down
hammering your soul,
stripping away rough rusty ideas
blasting away thought
burnishing and polishing
until
soaked, you reach the door, turn the knob and
step in;
only to drop your bag, turn smiling
and walk back into the rain,
knowing that this is as
close to God
as you will ever get.
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2 comments:
How do you have time to be creative during finals week?
My mind doesn't have the room for it.
I honestly don't know. I'm trying to write a little every day. It's hard, because I'm also trying to compose possible essays (at least six separate ones) in my head. I'm trusting that I don't go crazy.
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