These are high and holy days of the soul.
All ground is sacred for Jesus walks it with me.
My child brought me a gift today;
a flower covered with kisses,
well-warmed in sandy fingers.
A bird sang in the rose arbor,
I saw a nest there yesterday.
The calico cat is batting at a columbine.
The distant grumbling of my husband’s tractor
flows into my kitchen as I prepare lunch.
A gentle breeze brings sweet to my senses
a breath of the quiet brook
running lazily to the sea.
High and holy days of the soul to be celebrated with wonder,
lived in joy
and shared with abandon.
When every moment is a delight to the mind,
a time well made for communion.
I know there will be times of sadness,
when my heart will be weary of singing.
And those days will be no less holy
for having been celebrated with tears
rather than alleluias.
All days are holy and given by God
for the uplifting of his beloved children.
c.2011 Donna Swanson