So quiet comes the new day.
Over the hills of the east
the light greets the west
without urgency bravely
conquering darkness.

Senses greet harvest fields
as damp alfalfa is raked
deftly into endless rows.
A cyclic season as stubble remains
for next year’s fodder.

When is my next season?
I lean toward the merciful east
and find warmth in light –
agitation meets its match
in the dawn’s hue.

In the calm there is rest
as thoughts once meandering
settle for a quiet moment
in God’s veil of
renewing comfort.

I like these times
when there is a notion
I am alright and
I am fit to dine
with eternal love.

I can see inside me
better and better
with each eastern sunrise.
Grasp this vision, but
remember the road traveled.

For each step is progress.
Each tear digests heartache.
Every smile cleans an amber lens.
And a prayer soothes my soul
bringing hope and solace.

Clearer and closer to
a lucid glimpse of
what God, since the
beginning, has already
long known.

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