PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The first of October—

light breaks across the window

like mercy new each morning,

a psalm whispered through the glass.

The garden waits in silence,

its soil baptized by night rain,

each drop a reminder

where a Word does not return void.

Sun and shadow wrestle,

but even their quarrel

is held within Gentle hands—

cloud and flame, pillar and promise.

The kettle trills,

steam rising like prayer,

while I recall:

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

Perhaps the afternoon

will open in brightness,

perhaps not—

even in the shifting late sky

I see faithfulness,

and call it blessing.