Thunder rumbles in the background as the morning slowly wakes.
Darkness giving way to light, a muted and soft light.
The sky hovers low to the ground.
Clouds,
Waiting for their cue,
To release the nourishment obtained within.
Then it begins, rain like tears pour from the heavens.
Having released their burden
The clouds become light.
Streaming through my window
Revealing the corner of my world.
When most of my friends were reading Nancy Drew I was infatuated with Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning. I was most likely the only kid to peruse that musty section of my local library. Unfortunately this love for poetry didn’t remain a mainstay of my life. Like so many things it was a passing fancy. And yet, when I do seek out poetry I find it speaks to my soul in a way prose generally does not.
I’ve never studied poetry nor do I know the structure and style of poetry. I just like the rhythm and the feel I get from a beautiful phrase or perfectly placed word.
My fiber art is like tactile poetry. I create organic shapes with color and texture that make me feel something. I can’t always identify what that something is, but I know it when I feel it. Like my words, my art helps me connect to my Creator. All I have are gifts from Him.
Until tomorrow, may you find that thing that helps you connect to God and find your inner peace.
