Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Ginkgo Tree

It is my prayer that my life will be as a ginkgo tree, flaming with color, dancing in the wind, offering my greatest gift to the world even as the cool winds of fall are beginning to blow through final chapters of my life story.

And you will be searching for me and I will be there, when you have gone after me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:13


Holiness is often found where we least expect the whisper of truth as one searches the depth of the stars, in the presence of sound as one drinks in the lyrics of silence, in the innocence that clothes the heart of a child as he or she seeks to understand death, in the gift of repentance and forgiveness from one whose heart has been broken....

And it is in in our search for the holy that we catch a glimpse of Him...the creator of the universe...the lover of our souls. Elusive moments of captured splendor... captured but only fleetingly so....captured by us yet given freely by him. Serendipitous. Unrepeatable.

May the prose and poetry that I post hang a window in the heavens that we might gather holy moments for our mundane journeys.

And you will be searching for me and I will be there, when you have gone after me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:13

Winter Requiem

Silence hovers over still waters

Mirrored on this glossy canvas are barren branches

Winter has harvested the final vestiges of fall.

And, seated in silence, I join this holy requiem of nature.

A windless hush ushers in reverence for simplicity, strength and perseverance.

Noble fruit of harsh temperatures.

Towering skeletons that were once lush, verdant and vibrant with life

Stand naked in humiliation

These holy warriors are my mentors

Reminding me that when life is cold and winds are relentless,

I must stand tall though naked and humiliated

Silent but unyielding to adversity

For spring will come again.

Dana M. Seale

January 2004

November on Saddlerun Court

Terracotta, pumpkin, brown, sweeps the wind and noble ground,

Brilliance rides this heightened glory

Leaves like pages

Tell a story

Of verdant lives once fresh and strong,

Now weathered remnants

of a winter song.

Precursors to a certain death,

Yet still they dance in nature’s breath

Undaunted by their winter foes

They waltz on wind in wordless prose.

Dana M. Seale

November 19, 2008

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