it’s a quiet pentecost morning and
I’m out of town on a side street of life
where I ducked out of the drizzle only
to find myself in hart and soul coffee
everyone here speaks my language
though silence is not my strong suit
it strikes me that it takes some quiet
for the Spirit to catch me by surprise
pentecost is less about pontificating
than listening, about learning . . .
grace does not require my opinion
only my attention and my willingness
to trust there might be another way
to see or say than mine — the God of
galaxies has a larger vocabulary than I
and the imagination to show up
dressed as wind and fire, as the little
girl with the giant bow at the next
table, as the silence sitting across
from me in the cheetah print chair
Peace
Milton
Hey, Milton, this post really spoke to me. I especially liked the “cheetah print chair.” Grace comes in many ways! Love, Rosemary
grace does not require my opinion… thankfully.
I like it—” the God of the galaxies has a larger vocabulary than I ”
Thank you for the gift of your poem, Milton.
May God bless your day,
Barbara