"Everything is His.
The door, the door jamb.
The wood stacked near the door.
The leaves blown upon the path
that lead to the door...
the wind that is tripping them this way and that way,
the clouds that are high above them,
the stars that are sleeping now beyond the clouds
and, simply said, all the rest.
When I open the door I am so sure so sure
all this will be there, and it is.
I look around...
I turn and enter His house, and close His door."
(Mary Oliver)
2 comments:
So pretty. Lovely picture too.
RETA@ http://evenhaazer.blogspot.com
dear em,
this poem is lovely.
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