Blessed Day

BY: variousauthors

The sun’s broken lightWBlessedDay
through dusty painted clouds
moves me from instinct to prayer.

I bathe in the cuff of morning praise,
like a butterfly plotting its path of nectar
in the summer mist.

The windblown chimes
echo the song of Your river.
I listen for the thread of heart-string,
instead hear a symphony of worship.

You bless my day with testaments,
recorded in the late hour,
where light is put to bed
after everyone is sleeping.

I wake to find Your mystery in landscape
and song, a touch and a smile,
a cadence of devotion
and pulse for the Spirit’s call.

 

 

 

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