Stopping By Woods On A Sunny Morning

First published on Pentecostal to Pagan October, 2017

With a nod to Mr. Frost…

Dappled light through leaves mostly green
Pioneers in death

Just beginning to fall
One by one
Spiraling, floating to the forest floor.

Who’s Forest this is I know
It’s Spirit is it’s own
This Spirit knows me and this Spirit I know

A year has passed since I came to mourn
A forest recently covered in flood
The mud line rose far above my head
Yet the forest wasn’t dead

The trees stood proud
“We’ve been through the flood,” they say.
“And yet, here we stand.”

Today the flood is mine
They feel it. They know.
The spirit of this Forest welcomes me
Embraces me

“My strength is your strength,” it says.
“We remember our friends here.”

It sends me its birds and squirrels
To chirp their encouragement
It fills my heart with its presence

Yes. I, too, will stand
After my floodwaters recede
No matter how high the mud line
I know this Spirit and this Spirit knows me

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