688. No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn. ~Hal Borland

March 31, 2015 by nataliescarberry

Let me arise and open the gate,
to breathe the wild warm air…
To let in Life,
and to let out Death.
~Violet Fane, British novelist, poet, and essayist

Blow, Breath of heaven, blow! Blow through the land and over the waters. Carry away death’s dark vapors and let life in. Let the “wild warm air” of springtime spark life in every nook and cranny. Let every mountain, plain, and valley break forth in gladness. Let the ceaseless waves of the seas and the rushing currents of rivers roar with a renewed passion for life. Let the clouds suckle earth’s waters and then send rain from heaven to moisten the earth and let loose her flowering. Let life, whole and vibrant, dazzle us into a new awareness of You.

Blow, Breath of heaven, blow! Blow through us and take us down to the bottom of our souls where You, O God, the Breath of all things, are present “deep within all that has life.” We who have recently traversed winter’s dark domain yearn to feel your warmth and vitality course through our bodies and all that has life again. We long for earth and sky’s vast array of bright colors to take away winter’s preponderance of grays and browns. O Holy One, come; let us see You “in every emanation of Creation’s life.” We give you glory and thanks for all that You are, for Your ever-lasting goodness and never-ending love, “for creatures stirring forth,” “for plant forms stretching and unfolding,” “for the stable earth and its solid rocks.” O blessed Breath of heaven, arise and blow life afresh through Eden’s gates!

By the word of the LORD were the heavens made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth. ~Psalm 33:6 ✝

**Both images via Pinterest

684. God writes the Gospel not in the Bible alone, but also on trees, and in the flowers and clouds and stars. ~Author unknown, commonly attributed to Martin Luther

March 27, 2015 by nataliescarberry

Morning is the best  of all times in the garden.
The sun is not yet hot.  Sweet vapors rise from the earth.
Night dew clings to the soil  and makes plants glisten.
Birds call to one another.  Bees are already at work.
~William Longgood

Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it’s a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
~Pueblo Blessing

You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. ~Isaiah 55:12 ✝

626. White is the beautiful broken lace of snowflakes falling on your face. ~Mary O’Neill

January 28, 2015 by nataliescarberry

White is snow falling on the ground.
It’s clouds in the blue sky
And foam that splashed on oceans shores.
It’s the richness of pearls.
It’s the robe of angels.
It’s a crisp winter’s chill.
~Excerpted lines from a poem
by Marvel-Maniac

Is White a Color?

 White, pristine, unblemished
They say it is not a color.
I love white mists, clouds
Lingering on blue mountains.

White, no shades
No off white, cream
Pure as snow on shimmering peaks
Is my favorite sight.

Nurses, priests, politicians
Are bound, chained to white.
White nebulous clouds
Evoke deep nostalgic thoughts.

The paper I write is white.
White is holy, pure.
They say light is white
Because it combines all colors.

Screen Shot 2016-05-14 at 10.36.02 PM.png

So white is the mother of all colors
The churning of all yellow, blue, green.
Colors sacrifice their egos
To the eternal white.

Is white a color?
The matriarch of all colors
The fountain of all extent colors
Yes, king white reigns supreme!
~Excerpted verses from a poem
by John Matthew

Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow. ~Psalm 51:7 ✝

**Images via Pinterest, all collages created by Natalie

620. There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you… ~Colette

January 22, 2015 by nataliescarberry

In solitude
she sifts silence
searching for insights
from a marsh of memories
within each of life’s stages
penning prayers and praise
tucking each thought
word by word
phrase by phrase
onto pages.
~Wendy L. Macdonald at https://greenlightlady.wordpress.com/

Drip, drip, drip fell the winter rain. Deep, deep, deep grew the morning’s silence. Dark were the clouds that dimmed the light of day. Delicious was the morn’s “marsh of memories” floating through stages of my life. Time and circumstance seemed irrelevant as I basked in the quiet solitude punctuated exclusively by the soft pitter pats of falling rain. There were no fret nor frenzy in the morning’s damp and whispered song, and so I sat sifting the silence in search of nothing more to pen on today’s page than words of praise for the blessing of rain and the gift of life for another day, nothing more than words of gratitude for the peace it had brought and the Holy Presence I felt all around me.

“Now, my God, may your eyes be open and your ears attentive to the prayers offered in this place…” ~2 Chronicles 6:40 ✝

**Image via Pinterest

615. The sun came up like gold through the trees, and I felt like I was in heaven. ~Harriet Tubman

January 17, 2015 by nataliescarberry

The sun, with all those planets
revolving around it and dependent on it,
can still ripen a bunch of grapes
as if it had nothing else in the universe to do.
~Galileo Galilei

The Sun
Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful

than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon

and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone–
and how it slides again

out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower

streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance–
and have you ever felt for anything
such wild love–
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure

that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you

as you stand there,
empty-handed–
or have you too
turned from this world–

or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?
~Mary Oliver

…May the Lord bless his land with the precious dew from heaven above and with the deep waters that lie below; with the best the sun brings forth and the finest the moon can yield; with the choicest gifts of the ancient mountains and the fruitfulness of the everlasting hills… ~Deuteronomy 33:13-15 ✝

** Image, “Sunlight” by Heather Reichard, via Pinterest

593. It is in the nature of cats to do a certain amount of unescorted roaming. ~Adlai Stevenson

December 28, 2014 by nataliescarberry

Prowling his own quiet backyard
or asleep by the fire,
he (a cat) is only a whisker
away from the wilds.
~Jean Burden

Twas three days after Christmas, and all through the yards
Nothing was stirring, not even wind-blown papery discards;
The feeders were hung by the greenhouse with care,
In hopes the red cardinals soon would be there;
And seedlings were nestled snug in leafy beds,
While thoughts of springtime danced in my head;
The squirrels in their nests and I in my chair,
Lay resting ourselves from yesterday’s fare,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash
And raised the bamboo curtain and tied up its sash.
The lowering gray clouds of a cold winter’s day
Had earlier shrouded the land in garments of gray.
Now in the sun what to my wondering eyes did appear
But a feral feline running a path both straight and clear.
With a blue jay held loosely in her clenched jaw awry
The proud huntress lost her grip and away it did fly
Leaving her to wonder
Why her incursion was put asunder.
~A parody of Clement’s
Twas the Night Before Christmas

…a time to weep and a time to laugh… ~Ecclesiastes 3:4a ✝

I was laughing so hard after what I’d seen, I couldn’t resist the urge for some playfulness and thus wrote the parody above. The cat, however, was not amused at all by what had happened.

**Image via Pinterest

575. The view of the highway was so bad that you could not even see the next exit. The moment it loomed out of the mist it disappeared again, as if the world created itself and was blotted out again. ~Adapted excerpt from Janet Fitch

December 11, 2014 by nataliescarberry

As on many mornings of late autumn,
there is an ever so sly fog –
water in it’s most mystical incarnation –
slithering over, around, and through,
making everything look ancient and unsolved.
~Edited and adapted excerpt
from Jaimal Yogis

Foggy Day Haikus

Condensed water
lies low on the road like a
blanket from above

Foggy dew drops hang
on withered, fading grasses
creating magic

The cloudlike masses,
layers of minute droplets
make all hard to see

Everywhere one goes
clouds on the ground insist we
must move slowly
~by Natalie Scarberry

I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you. ~Isaiah 24:2 ✝

** First image via Pinterest, all other photos taken by Natalie

567. Fragrance takes you on a journey of time. ~Daphne Guinness

December 3, 2014 by nataliescarberry

There’s not a wind
but whispers thy name;
not a scent that beneath the moon,
but tells a tale of thee…
~Edited and adapted excerpt
from Bryan Proctor

As I opened the door to go out and close up the greenhouse, I could smell the scent of a wood burning fire wafting through the garden. All around me the darkness was descending uncommonly quiet and still except for a slow trickle of water falling from one tier to another in the fountain. It had been a cloudy day, but now occasional breaks in the clouds were allowing glimpses of a waxing gibbous moon–the distinctive, ancient moon that was the only nocturnal companion for those who’d once lived a more solitary existence where I now stand. As I stopped to inhale the fragrance of autumn’s ripeness, the aroma of burning oak, and the scent of the damp soil, I was momentarily transfixed as images of pioneers moving west across the land passed before my mind’s eye. They were descendants of immigrants like my great-grandparents who came here in covered wagons from the east, and I reckon that maybe, just maybe, it’s echoes of their voices I yet hear whispering faintly in the winds that blow across the Texas prairies.

I love the aroma of wood smoke and the crunching sound of autumn leaves beneath my feet and the savory scents that fill the space between heaven and earth this time of year. When darkness lowers, the moon, if it’s up there, is a comforting presence in the night sky, and the long nights ahead become cozy times of nestling down in a comfy chair with a cup of hot chocolate or tea for warmth to dream, yes to dream, first that in some soon-to-come felicitous moment I’ll look out the window and witness the wondrous spectacle of snow and secondly that spring will come sooner than usual and be even more glorious than the last. Ah, but how the marvelous old moon makes dreamers out of us all!

But thanks be to God, who always leads us as captives in Christ’s triumphal procession and uses us to spread the aroma of the knowledge of Him everywhere. ~2 Corinthians 2:14 ✝

** Image via Pinterest

556. The wild November come at last beneath a veil of rain… ~Richard Henry Stoddard

November 22, 2014 by nataliescarberry

A fine rain was falling,
and the landscape was
that of autumn.
The sky was hung
with various shades of gray…
~Henri Frédéric Amiel

No sun – no moon!
No morn – no noon –
No dawn – no dusk – no proper time of day.
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member –
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds! –
November!
~Thomas Hood

Last night in late November’s darkness a “veil of rain” dropped down, and clouds have wept chilling tears this livelong day. In the mists and showers a host of leaves, newly tinged in autumnal hues, have drifted down in silence bereft of all the above-named poet penned. And yet there’s no sadness in fall’s tears, just the rhythm of sacred purpose. Drop by drop by drop November’s rain closes the door to the year’s last ordained arena, but the promise of resurrection is held in every drop that falls. So we thank thee, Lord, for the sweet November rain and the blessing to come brought down in each of its parenting drops.

But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. ~2 Corinthians 3:16 ✝

548. The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live. ~Flora Whittemore

November 14, 2014 by nataliescarberry

Life is full of beauty.
Notice it.
Notice the bumble bee,
the small child,
and the smiling faces.
Smell the rain,
and feel the wind.
~Ashley Smith

How Would You Live Then?
What if a hundred rose-breasted grosbeaks
blew in circles around your head? What if
the mockingbird came into the house with you and
became your advisor? What if
the bees filled your walls with honey and all
you needed to do was ask them and they would fill
the bowl? What if the brook slid downhill just
past your bedroom window so you could listen
to its slow prayers as you fell asleep? What if
the stars began to shout their names, or to run
this way and that way above the clouds? What if
you painted a picture of a tree, and the leaves
began to rustle, and a bird cheerful sang
from its painted branches? What if you suddenly saw
that the silver of water was brighter than the silver
of money? What if you finally saw
that the sunflowers, turning toward the sun all day
and every day — who knows how, but they do it — were
more precious, more meaningful than gold?
~Mary Oliver

They have ears, but cannot hear, noses but cannot smell. ~Psalm 115:6 ✝

**Image via Pinterest

Sacred Touches

Life is a time of purpose and anointed blossoming…

Tag Archives: Clouds

688. No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn. ~Hal Borland

684. God writes the Gospel not in the Bible alone, but also on trees, and in the flowers and clouds and stars. ~Author unknown, commonly attributed to Martin Luther

626. White is the beautiful broken lace of snowflakes falling on your face. ~Mary O’Neill

620. There are days when solitude is a heady wine that intoxicates you… ~Colette

615. The sun came up like gold through the trees, and I felt like I was in heaven. ~Harriet Tubman

593. It is in the nature of cats to do a certain amount of unescorted roaming. ~Adlai Stevenson

575. The view of the highway was so bad that you could not even see the next exit. The moment it loomed out of the mist it disappeared again, as if the world created itself and was blotted out again. ~Adapted excerpt from Janet Fitch

567. Fragrance takes you on a journey of time. ~Daphne Guinness

556. The wild November come at last beneath a veil of rain… ~Richard Henry Stoddard

548. The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live. ~Flora Whittemore