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O morning sky of endless blue
Tinged with purply-pinky hue
You tell me of His mercies new
Whose heart pursues my own

O geese in wingèd winter's flight
Your honking cries arouse delight
And lift my gaze to seek thy sight
As wooing from His hand

O softest breeze which skims my face
And stirs with such mysterious grace
My soul to reach for Love’s embrace
You brush me with His kiss

O snowflakes falling to the ground
You pierce my heart without a sound
To crave a purity only found
Beneath a bloodied cross

O setting sun in half-light glowing
Waning day’s last glorious blush showing
You paint with fire my spirit’s own knowing—
This life is fading fast

O stars of midnight’s blackest sky
Paraded forth, you pull my eye
Toward One Who speaks this ceaseless cry:
“I’m coming back for you.”

O creeping fog to dawn’s light clinging
You whisper, Love’s veiled message bringing,
With haunting echoes faintly singing,
“Lose all of you in Him.”
~~~

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world."  ~ Psalm 19:1-4a

~~~
Some days there is an ache
That ripples through my soul like an echo in an empty cave.
Where it started, I'll never know
But it seems endless on my empty days.
(a tribute; if mere words could be enough)

~

the life of this River,
'tis an unending stream;
is an unpublished book,
its current fast at flood;
a flow that washes clean,
all the gathered debris;
its words like diamonds,
sparkling neath its lapping
waters at its river bank;
a sound refreshing,
hushes the rush in my mind,
calling to my soul.
where does the river go at night,
and whence flows its waters
when hidden, out of sight?
its flow is eternal to the sea;
a place of waters gathering,
of floods heaping,
of reflection's seeking,
where still waters lie,
where the hand of friendship
holds and lifts all who venture
to its depth where feet
can touch no longer
the point where most
would flounder
become a place of calm
of peaceable retreat without
and deep within
a flow of tears for thee!

~

post script.

a heart on sleeve composure,
for he who knows the River best!
who's breath is water deep,...
who's heart beat its very current!

added 12-13-16
my dearest HP friends, i want to thank you for this Daily and for your generous words, though i cannot truly claim this credit for my own.  those of you who have walked these halls with me for a few years will read between the lines and will know precisely for whom this tribute is written.  he is become to me one of a small handful of poetry mentors and it was a moment of great appreciation for his artistic talent that inspired these words... words that tumbled from this pen as a rush, and in mere minutes.  such is he, that he inspired this spill of words; a flood that i would not claim for my own.  to he who knows, thank you, my friend... this River... these and this belongs to you!!
 Dec 2016 Deborah Downes
bones
Lonely, like the ancient ocean
flooding fast upon the sand

past a fading line of footprints,
ankle deep in surf she stands

casting wishes on the water
like a sprinkling of snow,

light they land but moments after,
melt into the waves, and go..
Don't be lonely
Enjoy the beauty of nature
At dawn
a nightingale said
To the red rose
Why do you have so many thorns
Around you
Such a lovely
And sweet smelling flower
As you
Should not have a thorn
As companion
Once Sadie O’Leary’s dementia
Brought her to ‘Whispering Pines’
A nursing home at the edge of the woods
Where she played in earlier times

Her loving son bought her Nikes
For Sadie was sturdy and strong
Her sneakers got quite a work-out
Whenever the door alarms bonged

That happened almost daily
Sadie escaped out that back door
Into the woods she scampered
As I raced to fetch her once more

A good headstart down the timeworn path
Now overgrown and winding
While I just turned 30- so winded
Sadie’s ahead at 90

Sadie O’Leary kept going
So wiry and wiley was she
I heard the alarm bells ringing
Far away from Sadie and me

Sadie, wait!  Where are you going?
She was determined like no other
Her nostrils flared when she declared,
“I’m going to have lunch with my mother!”

Finally able to reach her
Grasping onto both of her hands
Remember she died years ago?
Your mother’s house no longer stands!

"Don’t you think I know that?!”
Glaring into my eyes brightly
Turning round to go back
Sadie gripped my hand so tightly

A comfortable symbiosis
Her foundation by the stream
Tomorrow we'll go together
Who am I to spoil her dream?
True story, fictitious name, but close...She taught me that no one is demented all the time-even the most psychotic person has lucid moments sometimes.
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