Morning prayer

Church is life. Life is poetry. Life well lived. 

I sit quietly
in the shade of a Pinon Pine.
A lizard comes to visit
sunning on red rock.

I watch eagerly
the cloud’s billowy white
shadowing the verde mountainside.
Then, appears a lone tree
taller than the rest.
A Harris hawk’s look-out
onto a vast horizon
searching for his next meal.
Will it be below his talons
and how far can he see
scurrying hops
of a desert cottontail
minding his own business?

I hear clearly
God tell us someday
He will crumble the mountains
command them to meet our feet.
On that occasion
I imagine the colors
of people’s smiles. The prayers
spiced and sweet.
No longer will the song birds
be the sole jewel of God’s ear.
We will at once be 

Reconciled, His creation complete.

(I am not here, writing, to convince anyone of God. Instead I hope unbelievers thoughts consider the effect God has on others. All principles have good and bad results. It is the behavior of individuals and the final judgment to weigh. What if there is no justice at the end of life? What of those who do not believe or insist Atheists are better than believers? Devisive language is no better.)


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