Eight feet up a rock on a small peninsula, divinity stirred
A patch of winter moss warmed, collecting morning sun
My back chilled in the light wind, yet I unzipped my coat
Scrub bushes poked through thin ice coating a little pond
Trees waited at the edge for their time to gather strength
Perfect conditions to witness God’s creation be portrayed

Act one began; ducks glided in, as if perfectly rehearsed
Mated red wing blackbirds warbled on last year’s cattails
A swath of reeds swayed as burst of wind came and went
Cascading water falling from the dam soothed everything
Even traffic in the distance added to the beauty all around
Peace settled nerves frayed from an unusually tough week

Act two moved towards the woods; squirrels rustled leaves
Oak leaves danced, held tight from winter’s ups and downs
A surveyor’s marker that previously panicked, waved hello
Could anyone ask for more harmony than in the short scene

Act three arrived suddenly; fifteen feet away, straight out
A small woodpecker attacked a tree, loud as a beating drum
He ignored my waving arm, unaware he disturbed the play
I rose to leave what was sweet, catching the selfish mistake
His tree full of holes from past visits, marks he left behind
Smiling at the irony, he was here just as frequently as me
How many times was I to quick to escape life’s cacophony
When God probably desired I stay to contribute on the stage

Act four new to me; this time, I would wait the scene’s end
My new companion pounded deeply into the softened tree
Tiny morsel retrieved, belly full, he flew away, I remained
My heart had opened a little to hear murmurs, in a loud din
God’s grace filled another hole inside my own unworthiness


I am constantly guilty of leaving the scene of situations I don’t feel comfortable in. I prefer quiet where there is no controversy, especially when it comes to other people’s issues. Being outside in God’s creation let me discover another flaw, another hole in my un-worthiness.  I now understand that in the beating and pounding, there is a morsel of hope that I may be able to help retrieve.  I will no longer be able to walk away when I see others struggling.

For further reflection: James 4