The Plumage I Wear

854
  100%
  0

Tags

Morning upon morning, they flock to my feeder. Each one arrives, at his, own time, seeking, to, be nourished.   Some, like the vibrant cardinal, visit, longer than the rest, and once satisfied, take flight, in search, of th...

Morning upon morning,

they flock to my feeder.

Each one arrives,

at his,

own time,

seeking,

to,

be nourished.

 

Some,

like the vibrant cardinal,

visit,

longer than the rest,

and

once satisfied,

take flight,

in search,

of the new day's adventures.

 

The blue jay,

well,

he swoops in,

with his large body,

and swooshes,

the rest away.

Like the bully,

of the playground,

he hordes,

what he can.

 

There is a small,

majestic bird,

whose name

I do not know.

His beautiful chest,

and beak,

are dressed in red,

resembling,

a vintage merlot.

His visits are short

and sweet.

He takes his fill,

and flitters off,

only,

to return again,

within the hour,

seeking,

once more.

 

Now the dove,

the dove struts,

along,

the grassy ground below,

satisfied,

with plucking,

whatever remenents 

he can find.

 

And as I watch,

this aerial show,

as if,

a member of the audience

taking in,

a great ballet,

I ponder . . .

What would it be like to be one of these birds?

 

Yet I am those birds!

 

I dress myself

in feathers.

At times,

the dove's,

often,

the cardinal's,

and

take flight.

 

The seed,

I seek,

to fill me,

are the words,

that You,

oh Lord,

speak to my spirit.

 

Sometimes,

they arrive,

through scripture,

others,

through song,

perhaps in the tender caress 

of a lover,

or,

a prayer,

spoken by a friend.

Whatever venue;

I am grateful.

 

And,

as the  frequency,

of my seeking, 

may vary,

as does the dance, 

around my feeder,

I will continue,

to search, 

until,

 I find myself,

kneeling,

in your,

majestic,

presence.

 

Global Scriggler.DomainModel.Publication.Visibility
There's more where that came from!