Manna Meditations, Day 38
Spring curls warm within the cold hard dark…
It huddles, underground.
It waits in the tips of branches.
It unfurls slow inside my chest…
It will not be stopped. 💛
Manna Meditations, Day 37
The sky is bruised black in places … and still, the light shines through:
Think, for a moment, about what this might mean.
Manna Meditations, Day 35
Manna Meditations, Day 34
At the streetlight, liquid gold drips through the lean-limbed pears:
I’m grateful. 💛
Manna Meditations, Day 33
The Stream snatches a slice out of the sky and pins it down in a furrow of earth, so that all the trees lean over to look, seeing the sight of themselves for the very first time:
They stand astounded, caught in this position for a hundred years, perhaps … Just long enough for their lean forms to lock in the shape of supplication, or prayer.
The Stream laughs all day long at their vanity. But the she laughs, too, at the gift of their beauty, which bends always toward her, backlit by blue.
In the face of our beloved, we seek our own reflection. ❤
Manna Meditations, Day 31
Yesterday, in a moment of joy, I lifted my iPhone to a dogwood branch knotted with small dark buds – the hope of things to come.
By accident, though, I snapped a photo of my own upturned face, lit with quiet wonder.
I offer these two images today in humble recognition that they are both, in a way, photos of the same thing:
And also, beauty.
Because really: anyone who can see hope outside herself is someone who harbors it safe within, too…
And that, friends, is a deeply beautiful thing. ❤