Honey From The Rock

Unaware, I came early to the glory porch.
Crepe myrtle, fucsia-headed, mopping
The fence, and the hummer
Darting, sipping at the sugar water spout.
Still,
Breathless with humidity and
Impending Blessing.
The Word spoke with a smile, and grace
Broke over my head:
“With honey from the rock I would satisfy you.”
Today! Yes, today, He had this waiting for me.
He laughed aloud at my gasp.
Only He could orchestrate the
Appointed day for
Summer reunions, old friends,
Long calendared,
To fall on the eve of
Honey promised
To the holy in
My morning reading.
~
I grew up on
Honey Rock Farm.
Had the man who built that brown frame home,
Who planted Sweet Olive near the back deck, and
Tucked it all up next to an oak-ringed field,
And named it Honey Rock,
Had he feasted on an impossible honey
That came, how on earth, from a rock?
Had Honey Rock come from his awe of a
Cleft in a Rock pouring clover’s wine,
Sweet and fine?
And when life in those walls had a rock’s hard edge,
When sorrow and worry
Fell like a stone on the heart,
Was there nectar to be sipped?
And could he have ever guessed how
That farm’s name would bring
Back-porch awe
Years and miles away,
Its syrup just now being sampled on the tongue?
Yes, and yes!
~
Psalm 81: 16

        
Allison Sieg, Paulette DuBose, Leslie Smith Milam – July 18, 2019

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Finch

Last back porch morning
Before the mountains call me out,
And the finches are back on
The zinnias. And oh what marvel!
I would have thought that
Zinnias themselves
Are all the color in this world,
And then the finch – a lemon
Popsicle
In the berry sherbets, a busy
Little page in his lord’s livery,
Palette completer,
Dominion bearer.

Processing God’s No

Breathless. And then
His No leads me in
Through the back door
Of Yes. Not the Yes that
I sought, but a
Different address.
A Yes so much broader
Than my earth-vain request,
A Yes of the wideness
Of East spanning West.
Ruddy and grained and
Ravishing to taste,
Perfumed and anointed and
Running with Grace,
What bliss in this place!
I find that the No, that makes
Heart tears fall, is not the
Back door at all.
It’s the thrown-wide front gate
And the outstretched hand;
Though it stings, it’s a Yes, and
The Yes is a Man.
~
II Corinthians 1: 20

 

Physics and Prophets

 

What is a prophet, except one who
Simply
Believes
The Word of old, a seer –
Not of the future, but of the past –
Who sees the Word long-written
As truer than the matter
His hand can touch.
Walking on the living Word,
Without deviation, he finds
On that slim line
All of Physics in a child’s grasp,
And his own heart’s Physician
Bending near.
~
meditations on Psalm 119

His Promise Is Enough

Up to regions high and light
I go when I release my tight grip
On managing my earthy home.
My open hands can join the
Angel band, busy in praise!
Sacred lyrics, angel-sung,
Storehouse treasure, proclaim that
When He says He’ll supply
All my needs,
He knows exactly what those are,
To the finest accounting.
And that He has already provided them.
And that I did not even need a sign –
A hummingbird or a rainbow –
His promise is enough.

~
Tapestry owned by Carol Wildeman