By Steven Searcy
When morning sunshine streams between green leaves
and the breeze blows but there are no clouds to drift,
let me receive the gift–
let my heart hymn,
and as my soul receives,
let me remember where the world is dim.
When callow clouds camp out and gray the earth
and the weight of shadows presses hope slim, let
me see what’s not here yet–
let my heart trust
that there will be new birth
one day, that life can be remade from dust.
Steven Searcy lives with his wife and three sons in Atlanta, Georgia, where he earns a living working as an engineer in fibre optic telecommunications. His poetry has been published in Ekstasis Magazine, Reformed Journal, Fathom Magazine, and The Clayjar Review.
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