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10jonpenny

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I am still.
Senses fed on Cedar.
Birds and breeze in tress
Accompany my silence.
God is near, unseen.

The wooded land rises
Behind me, to the hills,
And falls on both sides
To the creeks.

Before me, far below,
The water, deep.
Peering down from
Its granite perch,
My cottage sleeps.

Where could I go
To die but here,
Where loons will mourn
The loss of my
Adoring ears.

I spoil this place
With my love.
Its spoils me
With empathetic
Serenity.

The blades of grass
Are mine for they chose me
To watch their ballet,
Powered by cool air
And doting sun.

God, preserve this earth
As a place of worship
For the universe.
Keep blue this cathedral sky,
And green this emerald grass.

And keep someone
With heart and brain
Who cannot help
But love you better
From a place like this.


------
Floris W Wood


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Comments

The following comments are for "t the Cottage - 2003"
by FlorisWood

FlorisWood
really super good. my favorite. you're a very talented poem writer.

( Posted by: JPage [Member] On: May 21, 2009 )

The Cottage
My daughter, when she was quite small, surprised me one night. I was putting her to bed with a prayer. She stopped and looked at me and said "Does God use my eyes to see what he made?"
I loved this poem - it touched me and spurred a sweet memory. Thank you!

( Posted by: jonpenny [Member] On: May 22, 2009 )





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