Ancient trees stretch toward heaven
Moss covered; silent, waiting
Encircling like a theatre. Or choir.
Longing to praise Most High God; Creator

    Deafening thunder, sheer silence

Life-giving water abounds, trickling, misting
Down soft, earthen hillsides, making way
To the pool; swirling, roiling, waiting
Full of power and of life

    Ever-shifting, yet unchanging

In seasons peaceful, placid, gentle
Yet now, displaying that same might
Which cuts through stone, moves rocks
Uproots and fells ancient trees, longing to praise

 

I wrote that my lenten exercise is worshiping more. Spending more time in prayer, meditation and adoration; with my guitar and without. Here’s a poem I wrote Monday while on retreat. I walked the Way of The Cross at Mt Angel Abbey then just drove up into the hills above the Scotts Mills and the Crooked Finger area. I saw a sign pointing out Butte Creek Falls and other areas. I stopped, hiked a quarter mile down to the upper falls and sat in silence, trying to quiet my heart and mind to listen for God. I created this in response to that time.

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