Place of Respite

Jesus replied, “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” Matthew 8:20 NIV PLACE OF RESPITE Cheek-tinge of pink dawning in the murky skies. Blandness of deep-earthed bark, stretching, touched by birdsong…long overdue, it pries the stirring of tinctures, heart-revival fetching. The soft cooing of dove-white countenance behind the adventurous arms of upright praise. The milky colorant, the soothe of boundlessness, heaven’s face — the wise eyes of Jesus’ blaze. Crustose lichen of green, subtle stripes of peel, signature branch-sketch, by God’s hand, varicose leans into his every word — his glory-heel at cross-times past, every blood path, bellicose. Eureka! I once again, open my ears to golden notes. Why is chirping so charming? …like an angelic shake, the bell one or many…the beckon from furry coats, unseen-existence b’neath the heaven’s silver lake. The light brightens on the horizon, a New Year shines through the I’m-glad-I’m-home-steal-my-heart blinds Familiar bittersweets and blues, buttercup-yellows, signs that love is close of hand and hearth, most oft’ kind. 1/4/2022