Our Bountiful God

Our God is bountiful because the dove alights, saturates, as if oiling our joints, softening the countenance, our hands and feet that bear our cross. My God bestows gifts, different than silver and gold, yet worth more than those, more than pearls; friendships gained, souls won. My God sees all my troubles and sorrow. Compassionate, protector, deliverer, footprints in the sand. Promises are made that the churl will find no bounty, the vile no penance when the reaper comes. But our God prepares a table in their presence. At our feet, a bounty of golden streets, the fruitage of the tree of life, the glory glory glory chorus of God’s throne. Like the milk and honey of the earth’s breast, are God’s provisions. Like a rock, out of which water rushes, in the nick of time. Peace like a river, overflows in harm’s way. He spurs his angels, heavenly and in the form of friends, oftentimes gifts a serendipitous glue. Liberal in bestowing gifts Liberal in bestowing favor Plumage of petals, morningtide chirping, ebb and flow of pink sand and turquoise sea. The bishop of our souls, the Savior-son, the sacrificial provision of torn flesh and blood, the cruel bounty that bestows beauty for ashes, gladness in place of mourning; instead of despair, the apparel of praise. Our God is bountiful because… Our Bountiful God Poetry Contest Sponsor: Julia Ward 10/26/2020