Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

A Winter's Morn

Morning has broken
the sun sneaks up
peeking out over the
show covered mountains
conquering the clouds and the mist

light dances through the trees
gently warming
cold air

the smoke lingers
from many a wood stove
blurring the
visage of the trees
and tickling my nose

the horses
take flight
and kicking with the joy
of a crisp winter morning

the day is here
can God come out to play?

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