This morning, in the pre-dawn hour, I sat on my front porch and looked and listened and wrote. I had a purpose, I had my coffee, and I had my phone’s flashlight to see my notebook when I needed it. My purpose was to complete a challenge in creativity by observing the creativity of the Creator. And when I was done? My soul could not help but to respond in worship, in song. (I’m hoping I didn’t wake my neighbor up.)
The challenge was from day two of Courageous Creative, a study I’m doing with a small group through my church. (For me, this is the continuation of a journey I started a year ago—that’s for another post, another time though.) The challenge was to go somewhere, observe God’s creation, and write using action verbs about what God has done in his acts as the Creator. I read the challenge last night and decided to wait for my favorite time of day and not to go far—my front porch was all I needed. And I bent the guidelines, using the action verbs for God’s creation as well as for him.
God met me there on my front porch, and it set the tone for the entire day: All day songs of his praise have been bursting from my heart, my lips. I’ll share what I wrote with you, and I would love it if you took up the challenge and shared it with me. This post won’t have any photos (it was too dark!), but so much imagery. I hope you enjoy God’s creation as it was this morning through my eyes, my words.
The cool spring breeze
blows strands of hair against my cheek
gently tickling my neck
Rain drops fall singly, together
interrupting the joyful chaos of the birds’ morning song
(but not quite)
(they sing on through the rain)
A single cloud reflects light
but other clouds are there
now pouring out their offerings on the earth—
or are they crying?
Crying in bursts and fits
trying to wash the earth clean before the new day begins.
The birds sing on
trying to awaken the dawn
The earth soaks in rain
yields its fresh, earthy scent
(smells like worms)
The moon is behind the clouds
smiling with its half face
poking through the holes in the clouds
and pointing the way to the sunrise yet to come.
It is what gives the single cloud(s) its brilliance.
The cloud tried to steal the moon’s light
masking it as its own
but could not compare to the moon
(which does not compare to the sun).
Tree limbs stand stark against the grey
grey of the morning
grey before blue
Light is coming.
Lightning plays hide and seek
just out of the corner of my eye
fairy-like, it makes me wonder
was it there, or was it my imagination?
The world outside my door is ALIVE.
The grey gives up the sky
but clings to the clouds
as the earth turns its face toward the sun
(or is it turning its back on the night?)
my dog, my companion
wonders at the early excursion
sniffs the air for remnants of the breakfast
I forgot to share
shakes the lingering raindrops
from her ears
a speck of black against the bluing sky
flits into and out of my sight
the coffee is warm in my mouth, my throat
and lightning still flirts with my vision
(there? or not? hiding just out of sight?)
Lord, you have done all of this
and it is good.
A hint of orange kisses the horizon
caresses the earth as I retreat
to awaken my sleeping children.
But first, a song bursts forth from my lips,