Foxtail Grass Memories

Foxtail Grass Memories


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Roofing would have to wait to be finished
until another day as heat forced energy to be extinguished
I needed a place in the shade
to relax before the next chore, but other plans were being made
Foxtail grass swayed in the slight breeze
bringing back warm childhood memories

Love, faith and hope with spirituality
let me perceive I had entered un-explored geography
My coarse life crushed again in the mortar
and pestle to expose what was hidden before
Origination’s supernatural luminescence
mingled in the mix, I accepted with childlike innocence

Translucent dragonfly wings let me see straight through to
the other side, Love became visible

Touch-me-nots danced like little orange trumpets, seeds ready
to be exhaled with their
coiled springs
Bees furiously gathered pollen in a spray of Goldenrod as I listened to the sound of
beating wings

One lone purple wild chicory flower called out, I answered
Yes Lord

A stationary trip in a field of weeds
the flame of the extraordinary again exceeds
Overhead I watch a vein in a maple leaf retreat
I am compelled to look towards blue, bittersweet
There is much to do as I must live with these bursts of truth
when I have returned to youth
Brief details have again ceased
as the wide angle lens returns with Christ’s peace

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I had squeezed in about an hour of replacing roofing shingles before the hot steamy day forced me to take a break.  What I desperately needed was shade, which I found under an overhanging maple tree branch at the back side of my yard.  I sat down on a rock to just catch my breath until the next chore.  Just out of reach was a small swath of Foxtail Grass.  My whole mind body and spirit seemed to flash back to when I was a child playing in a field of this unique grass.  We would pick the longest ones and let the stem hang out of our mouths. In our innocence, we had no idea that a bigger world loomed in front of us. My short prayer had allowed me to drift back to that childhood.

Orange trumpet-shaped Touch-me-nots started appearing all around me. Behind them Goldenrod weeds seemed to perfectly frame in each bee.  My prayer deepened and I followed it to a lone purple flower in the middle of the scene.  It was a metaphor for me.  Although I may feel all alone in my quest, God had sent a message: He was all around me. My eyes drifted up to a single maple leaf in the tree branch above my head. Its veins seemed to be pumping out a map of direction, then it was gone.  All that was left was blue sky between the branches.  I had returned to my coarse-grained self.  The child in me led me towards a new truth to explore, Christ again had brought me peace. 

For further reflection: Luke 18