From time to time I get a little Song of Solomon-ish. To tell you the truth, I wish I were more so and more often. I sense God's Spirit being released out of me when I let go, and let myself receive His love. Kathie has encouraged me to write more poetry, which is becoming a window to the BMW. Here's one I thought might leave us with some of that good discomfort.
He stood,
Wet as a mountain.
Her eyes swimming
In the requirement to leave
no shade to the tree,
no berry to the vine,
no song to the bird.
Her child-days bark like
The blue jay under
Constant threat of
Beauty Contamination,
no comb in her hair,
no rose for her breath,
no ears for the fiddle.
Till the Earthen tower
Of his chest cuffed her
Down-sloped gaze into
A detention of Love.
No night for tears.
No sweat for the brow.
No clothes for the body.
