Apparently I Write Poetry

An early morning beckons

The sun not yet visible, its light blankets the horizon

Nature sounds abound: birds chirp, bugs make bug sounds

The day, yet unwritten, is bursting with potential:

the promise of a dear one’s visit to share a meal

knowledge that the saints will gather to be the church

and the joy that comes with purpose, the chance to be and do that for which we are created

Lord, let it be so


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