sunday sonnet #7

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    I spent the weekend in the Blue Ridge Mountains helping with a retreat for Holy Covenant UCC from Charlotte, so I was not at my church for worship or World Wide Communion Sunday. The focus of the retreat was on the Psalms. Nancy Allison, a longtime friend and the pastor at Holy Covenant, pointed out that the references in the Psalms to being “sheltered under God’s wing” were talking about something that wasn’t permanent: a respite before a return to the realities of human existence. I am back down the mountain now and preparing to face the week ahead.

    As I drove down the mountainside,
    the radio waved a warning
    of terror attacks both far and wide
    and thunderstorms a-forming.

    One puffy cloud in the evening sky
    Stretched softly like a wing,
    The Rock of Ages drifting by,
    and I could not help but sing,

    “Tune my heart to sing thy praise” —
    words I know by head and heart
    that say the living of these days
    calls us to courage and to art.

    Safety is not a fertile thing;
    out of our pain we learn to sing.

    Peace,
    Milton

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    1 COMMENT

    1. Safety is not a fertile thing;
      out of our pain we learn to sing.

      Oh, this is VERY good. Bang on the head and elegantly put.

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