Today’s prompt is to write a metaphor poem. I have been contemplating the Sufi concept of the Divine Beloved, so a metaphorical search for the nature of the Beloved seemed apt.
The Beloved
She is a whisper
in the breeze,
calling you
into the wilderness,
reminding you
of your true name.
She is a crocus
in the wild wood,
escaping the borders
of the gardens,
catching the gaze
of your downcast eye.
She is three crows
casting themselves
into the tempest,
claiming the sky,
inviting you
to take wing.
Gratitude List:
1. Perhaps it’s the increased exercise, but I am getting better sleep again after about a week of ache-filled nights.
2. How people look out for each other. The three grandsons looking out for their grandma as she’s moving out of her cottage and into personal care.
3. The singing in church this morning. It’s always good, but it’s just so lovely to lead singing and stand in front and hear everyone making music together. Sacred and holy.
4. Pink trees. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink.
5. Yesterday’s weather. (There’s a hidden grumble in that one, I think, but there’s definitely a promise of warmth to come, even if it takes another week.)
May we walk in Beauty!
Mockingbird Chronicles 