Cricket’s Song


Sometimes it’s not the thunderclap,
but the raindrop’s tap
that steals my heart.


To know that you are God enough to pay attention to the smallest detail:
The shiver of an aspen leaf,
the remembered smell of my grandmother’s perfume
the burst of a blueberry upon my tongue
the whispered beauty on a wrinkled face
my daughter’s sigh as she sleeps in my arms
These seal my soul in you.

Let me be the cricket,
singing praise upon your hearth.


[photo by Mark Robinson per cc 2.0]

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