Feeling a need for green and open spaces
I took a different route home
And drove through country lanes
Funnelled by winter-bare bushes
and muddy verges
Past empty fields
Beneath empty skies.
All was rain-washed, sharp and fresh
It’s clean purity a gentle touch on my smudged soul
Like a wet-wipe on the grimy face of a naughty child
There are no great lessons to be learned here.
No triteness about beauty growing from the muddy dirt.
There is simply the presence of these things:
Green
Fresh
Cool
Pure
Gentle
Peace
And their undeserved blessing on my being.
A grace.
I drove home
Touched by something I cannot touch
Blessed by what I cannot bless
Cleansed by what I cannot sully
Which is always there for me
Whether I will or not.
A grace.
22/1/08
I took a different route home
And drove through country lanes
Funnelled by winter-bare bushes
and muddy verges
Past empty fields
Beneath empty skies.
All was rain-washed, sharp and fresh
It’s clean purity a gentle touch on my smudged soul
Like a wet-wipe on the grimy face of a naughty child
There are no great lessons to be learned here.
No triteness about beauty growing from the muddy dirt.
There is simply the presence of these things:
Green
Fresh
Cool
Pure
Gentle
Peace
And their undeserved blessing on my being.
A grace.
I drove home
Touched by something I cannot touch
Blessed by what I cannot bless
Cleansed by what I cannot sully
Which is always there for me
Whether I will or not.
A grace.
22/1/08