Made for Storms

Made for Storms


The storm’s approach
The eagle sees.
He waits for it
Atop the trees.

The meadow runs.
Retreats in fear.
The wily fox,
The white-tail deer.

And skies grow black.
And crack with light.
And wind careens,
As day turns night.

The smell of rain
And topsoil stirred
Are ancient clues
To this great bird.

That soon will come
An upward rush.
His pinions locked.
A mighty push.

To launch the prince
Of loftier skies
Above the storm.
Or else he dies.

While far below
In gopher towns,
In flash-flood’s flow,
A partridge drowns.

And ants are trampled upon to no end in our comings and goings and no mind is given to such things. "Let the dead bury their own dead...follow me", "kick the dust from off of your sandals", "do not turn and look back." "do you not see, there is an Angel of The Lord in the road ahead?!"
"Follow me..."
Obedience is not always the easier road but it is always the best.
We are indeed...made in His image and,"made for storms!"