Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Whispers in the Wind

Whispers in the Wind

Poem by Franklin Steer

Flowers Of My Heart

Whispers in The Wind 

Wind is the breath of creation
And its children are the breezes
That swirl the clouds
Into soft cotton images
Wherein summer hillside contemplation
Reveal hidden dreams
Trapped within our recollections

The breezes’ younger siblings
Drift through darkened winter hallways
Down early morning chimneys
Through the tiny cracks they seep
Into our places of solitude,
And invade with reminders of their Holy parentage:

All this motion is the whisper of God.
As He is, it is not seen,
And touches all at once
Without favor.

Speaking -
The leaves excitedly touch each other
With a gentle nudge
To repeat the message in the wind
And its youngling breezes.

They whisper between themselves,
Swelling with softness the echo of creation.
In this rustling lives a peace
That reflects the joys of repose,
And the reward of the space
Between dreams, sleep, and our awakenings.

From wonder within awe,
The might of these murmurings
Build into a deep roar,
Reaching into every soul
The very foundation of our exultance
Is held tight by this intimate caress.

Touching gently like love,
With love, it is love.
Reaching out from our very creation.
Touching creation
Loving our creation
Touching our love.
Touching its creation

Kaleidoscopic gifts that light bestows
Upon the entwining leaves
Warm the heart as though cradled
Within the arms of love itself.

I see so much in the breeze,
So much in the wind -
Reflections of my heart.
Extensions of my soul.
The sparkle of the love
Behind engaging eyes.
The sweetness in a smile.
The softness in a touch.
The warmth that is shared
From within an embrace.

Love whispers like the wind.
Love whispers from the wind.
Love is witnessed within the wind.
Love travels on the wind.

My heart reaches out for love
And rides along the wind -
In every rustle of a leaf,
In every moan of every gale,
Searching for the place
That holds its final home;
The heart that stirs my love
Like the wind stirs the leaves

The sound of the trees
Is the song of the breeze,
And the sound of the pleas
In my loves longing search.

All that sing a song of the wind
Whisper the yearning of my heart.

When you hear that gentle whisper,
Know that it holds the yearning within my heart. 

Franklin Steer
© FOMH / Flower of My Heart

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