747. Give me the splendid silent sun, with all his beams full-dazzling… ~What Whitman

I’ll tell you how the sun rose,
-a ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.
The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun.
Then I said softly to myself,
“That must have been the sun!”
~Emily Dickinson

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“The sun says his prayers,” said the fairy,
Or else he would wither and die.
“The sun says his prayers,” said the fairy,
“For strength to climb up through the sky.
He leans on invisible angels,
And Faith is his prop and his rod.
The sky is his crystal cathedral.
And dawn is his altar to God.”
~Vachel Lindsay

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Ya know coming all to soon upon us now are the days when I’ll be begging for clouds, any kind of clouds, even one big cloud to shade us at least for a little while from the sweltering heat of the summer sun here in Texas, but today after more than a month of gray, gloomy, cloudy, rainy days, I was thrilled to see the sun at daybreak. And although we have more chances for more the rest of the week, it has been deliciously sunny most of the day. Throughout the last decade we have been through a harsh and severe drought that left our water reservoirs in dangerously low or in some areas where the lakes or other water supplies had completely dried up. So I prayed and prayed for rain and promised never to complain about it ever be importune again. And I won’t break that promise to the Lord, but now that our rivers and lakes are approaching flood stage or already flowing over, I pray that the Lord spread the rains out over the summer months before there’s any more loss of life and/or property.

This is what the Lord says to me: “I will remain quiet and will look on from my dwelling place, like shimmering heat in the sunshine, like a cloud of dew in the heat of harvest.” ~Isaiah 18:4   ✝

**Images via Pinterest; notice the photo of the deer who seems to be praising the Lord for the sun’s appearance.

479. It is only when we silence the blaring sounds of our daily existence that we can finally hear the whispers of truth that life reveals to us, as it stands knocking on the doorsteps of our hearts. ~K. T. Jong

In the attitude of silence
the soul finds the path in a clearer light,
and what is elusive and deceptive
resolves itself into crystal clearness.
Our life is a long and arduous quest after Truth.
~Mahatma Gandhi

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When I spied it, this Canna’s last bloom of summer was standing supremely beautiful in its silence and solitude. It was early in the day, no one else was around, and it was deliciously quiet in the garden. But in the silence I heard whispers, murmurings of the undeniable truth that all is the valued work of the Divine’s intelligent design and not the random scattering of atoms. On a late summer’s day, this was more than enough for me to be grateful and celebrate the life the Lord had granted me and the flower.

I arise today
In the name of Silence
Womb of the Word,
In the name of Stillness
Home of Belonging,
In the name of the Solitude
Of the Soul and the Earth.
~John O’Donohue

“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”  ~Psalm 46:10  ✝

463. I sit here transfixed, bewitched by the dragonfly stealing nectar’s kiss. ~Georgina Blankscreen

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In The Flutter Of Gossamer Wings

When the ire of Nature changes to Summer
and flowery blankets are lain far and wide,
amidst valleys and meadows I hear a murmur
of that silent flutter called “dragonfly glide.”

On cool crystal air so clean and yet fresh
the arrival of the season fills insect nostrils,
with exotic fragrances that seem to mesh
as over a pond, his thirst it gently fills.

This creature with eyes of 30,000 lenses
with a slender body so fragile and thin,
most excellent a flier he hovers, then senses
to do a round loop-d-loop on wings twin.

And to even fly backwards, oh what a surprise
like a tiny chopper skipping on water’s surface,
and it’s weird that he has those bulging eyes
this dragon called insecta odonata is “boss.”

Comes in many shapes, sizes and odd colors,
flying in such grace on those gossamer wings,
this sleek dragonfly, when seen, my soul stirs
for God in his splendor created such things!
~By Rick Fernandez, Sr.

Ascribe to the Lord the glory due His name; bring an offering and come before Him. Worship the Lord in the splendor of His holiness. 1 Chronicles 16:29   ✝

Thank you, Lord Jesus, that you save, you heal, you restore, and you reveal Your Father’s heart to us! May I dwell in Your holy presence and praise Your name for all that you have given and done.

**Image of the dragonfly via Pinterest

 

208. It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake, the fire of the frost… ~John Burroughs

We feel cold, but we don’t mind it
because we will not come to harm.
And if we wrapped ourselves against the cold,
we wouldn’t feel other things,
like the bright tingle of the stars,
music of the Aurora,
or best of all the silky feeling of moonlight on our skin.
~Philip Pullman

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After last night’s winter storm, we woke to find the ground, the streets, and the rooftops covered in a solid blanket of sleet mixed with snow.  Icicles were hanging from eaves and other solid objects; branches, stems, leaves and the few remaining roses had been encapsulated in ice.  The forbidding frozen world outside was steeped in silence but for the occasional gusts of wind that sent falling leaves round and round in capricious little whirlwinds tapping softly against the icy ground.

In the coming days the garden will shrink dramatically.  It’s beauty will be harder to see, but for those who continually walk its paths with searching eyes and vivid memories, emerging treasures can be spotted and glory envisioned in places where it was and shall rise again from seeming nothingness.  During the warmer spells in the next few months, I’ll clean up the growing season’s spreading, untidy tangle and reshape her fetching figure while below in her fertile womb mysteries, ancient and sacred, are coming together to birth yet another springtime.

Then the Lord spoke to Job out of the storm.  He said From whose womb comes the ice?  Who gives birth to the frost from the heavens when the water become hard as stone, when the surface of the deep is frozen?  ~Job 38:1 and 29-30  ✝