Subtle Signs
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Written on July 25, 2024
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It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men's hearts, as for that subtle something,
that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so
wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.
- Robert Louis Stevenson
shafts of gentle seek my thoughts,
blessings, trembling, reflecting
songs bleeding through the eventual afternoon,
while softly shimmering,
on the knees of a breath,
like silence, solitude, gasping
kneeling, with reverence
kindling a joy,
broken by the wind,
who lingers on the shadows,
veiled by the mist in the clear skies,
words hesitating, a prayer,
faded into the mysteries of knowing,
where magnificent stars burn, purposefully,
growing stories, tales of burning
intimacies, seeking kindness,
soothing gracefully, like a joy
who brings its mossy rocks,
on bold expressions, hesitating
words like hope, dancing, swirling
tears, blessings rising
on the seas of autumn’s grace – stirring rivers, melting
into the nights, moon in silent glimmers of knowing,
where truth glistens, like a soul
wise and warm,
wistful, dew mirroring the sun, the moon,
starlight in June, destiny
on the edge of quiet trail, rocky
risking the thirsty darkness,
poured out on the edges of time,
waiting, waiting for the perfect moment
to silence the lavender silhouettes
who laugh with the bird, crooning, echoing
flowing with the river’s weeping lyrics,
jubilant, but still as Sunday morning
a whisper of sunrise, seducing the dark
while winsome words, poetry smiles
through the doubting, the night, grasping
fleeting verses, rhythms of light
rising across the ridges, revealing
what it means to breath in the peace,
wistful moments, heady and gentle as grace,
promises from the forest, the pines
the light who abides, sacrificing leaves,
on September memories,
bold and brilliant, blazing
through the sentimental,
sensing all the serenity, souls
eternal,
glorious gifts from God, who survives
amid the quivering kindness’
of a moss covered thought,
epiphany stolen by the trees, the seeds
who never complain, because they agree
we all need to become, more like the Son
whose light echoes across our lives,
outlasting the night,
amazing – in silence, she abides
playing quietly on the edges of a creek, gurgling
happily, the song of a life
who feels more alive
when the trees surround the silence,
when the wind announces its song,
with the music of faith that grows strong
amid the beauty of a forest, overgrown with hope.
wild and unkempt, but lush with acceptance,
alive with mercy and grace,
love in this place,
far away from the crowded streets of a past,
confusion, the distant mess
before His light seeped through the cracks.
Copyright © Regina Mcintosh | Year Posted 2024
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