Quiet Time
I see You, God
in this morning-cerulean sky;
I feel You
in the sun illuminating
this frozen landscape.
I speak; You talk
and I hear You
in a breeze
that scatters from high limbs
tufts of snow –
little white angels fluttering and dancing
on currents.
In this season of withdrawal,
purity is born of introspection
and I taste the deepening connection in the
still
and the
quiet.
I sigh;
branches sway,
and I breathe in the fragrance of
Union
and wonder why I ever
turn away.
© 2008
The Quiet Time by Gianetta Ellis, unless otherwise expressly stated, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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