Glorified

Glorified

Which is more radiant,
a sunbeam or moonbeam?

Why am I so happy standing
beneath maple and mountain ash,
joining leafy arms praising,
birds instead of bells,
earth instead of incense,
luminescence instead of stained glass?

How is it at night,
it's silence that glorifies,
the soft chirping, the low hoot,
the sliver of light outlining your cheek,
the moon that serves as Host?

Is it possible trees sing for joy,
that He holds mountains in His hands?

When did we stop listening,
stop observing, stop learning
from that which He created?

by Margaret Bednar, April 29, 2019

Reposted and linked with "Earthweal Open Link Weekend #65" a poem I wrote about two years ago...  

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Poems in April - Asking a Question"  Don't get me wrong, I think the sanctuary, tabernacle, the Mass is an important part of my worshipping, but I find being in nature can be just as magnificent.

Also linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Platform Tuesday"  

Grandmother

 

123rf

Grandmother

Grandmother hovered

above childrens' play-set,

Ancient Wild Cherry tree

bent and a bit wobbly on her feet;

offered shade in the summer 

and arms to climb and nestle,

ponder secrets she held

within her countenance.

Crab Apple and Old Willow

joined our gossip on many a fine day,

but were much younger;

Willow's golden catkins 

and Apple's flushed pink florets

delighted us through spring and summer,

but it was Grandmother Cherry

who regaled us all with stories

she was willing to share. 

Songbirds entertained

as we picnicked beneath her boughs,

feasted on PB&J, our little musicians

on sweet and sour apples and berries

dangling above our heads.

And yet, as all living things 

face Destiny, it took a powerful storm

to prostrate her upon our lawn, 

leaves a halo about her head;

miraculously missed the play-set

directly in her path.  

I still marvel, 

yet should have known,

she'd bring no harm or disappointment

to those she loved.

by Margaret Bednar, April 18, 2021

We had a huge wild cherry in our backyard when the first three children were little - I was surprised it was a cherry tree as I thought they were all smaller - this one was supposedly over 100 years old and very tall and wide.  The tree experts insisted it was a wild cherry - who knew.  Anyway, one morning looking out my bedroom window the view was certainly different with the tree felled by powerful tornado-like winds.   She was rotten in the middle and it scared me to think it could have fallen anytime - but somehow she stood - I guess she was stubborn :)  And by all means, she should have fallen right on the swing-set and play area, but didn't.  

I am almost recovered from my hysterectomy operation.   I had a small infection at the top of my incision which slowed me down for a few days.  A few more weeks and I will be as good as new.  

This is linked with "Poets and Storytellers United - Writers' Pantry #66"