Poem: Spire

Spire
Psalm 30:5

In the morning light
you see less of the cracked paint,
and broken siding.

Your eye is not drawn
to the fingerling cracks in the windows,
or the tired wooden steps.

No, you see the light,
the colors of a new day,
and the eternity of seeking,

a reminder of why each morning is precious,
each day a gift,
each promise of God, real.

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The picture was taken in Pawlet, VT. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom