Sunday, June 6, 2010

Morning Walk - 2006

The air is still.
Morning mist hangs heavy
In the trees.
Step after step after step
She treks the sidewalks
Hoping to exchange lethargy
For health
Hoping excess pounds
Will fall from her aging frame
Hoping her Lord will infuse
Her fainting spirit with His fire.

She passes houses that
Do not divulge their secrets
Willingly.
But cluttered lawns
And unswept sidewalks betray
Their owners’ indifference.
Neatly manicured bushes
And flowerbeds suggest
Their owners’ orderly lives.

This is a timid emotionless neighborhood
Judging by random gardens.
Sparsely-sown shy flowers
Dot heavily mulched plots.
No lavishly-painted day lilies
Sing their songs in these yards.
No proud hostas
Parade their rich variety
Of greens here.
A single geranium now and then
A few neat clumps
Of impatiens
Purple morning glories climbing
A mailbox or two
Suggest muted lives.

One house remains
Permanently placid –
A puzzle to the morning walker.
An upright wooden organ rests
Upon the porch.
A second story window
Stays ajar at the same distance
Day after day.
No car in the driveway.
No porchlight left burning
Into the early hours of dawn.
Does anyone live here?
Who abandoned this house,
Not for sale
But definitely dormant?

Who lives behind
The cryptic faces
She sees each day?
What signs can she detect?
What insights?
Lord of the lost,
Show her who resides
Inside gnarled lives
Along her way.
Is the house abandoned
Or is its resident hiding?
Do perfectly edged lawns mean
Hearts in harmony with you?

Will you show her snarled souls
Inside masked countenances,
Drawing them to yourself
Through her?
Will you place in her hands
Vivid seeds
With kaleidoscopic possibilities
To be sown in fertile soil?

You have answered her prayer
For fire-infused power.
You will stretch
Her morning walk
Into a daily pilgrimage of praise.
Unneeded excess stuff
Is falling from her soul.

Her eyes are open to see
The creativity of your love
Surrounding her journey.
Astound her with the brilliance
Of your gardens
As she walks the path
Of her destiny.

Nancy Godfrey
August 20, 2006

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