March 3, 2012
And I said, "Oh, that I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest.
I would flee to a far-off place
and make my lodging in the wilderness.” Psalm 55:7-8
The morning fog creeps down the street quieting traffic and birds. Insubstantial, the blanket woven of dampened air nevertheless muffles sound, limits sight. The tall evergreen floats across the way as if at the end of the known world while the red maple buds reach toward my window in sharpened outline.
Ordinary condensation creates a potent solitude in the midst of the city as the cycle of water and life and God’s word reveals anew its power to transform. A closing in that breathes comfort and longing. A wet wilderness not just to escape into but to seek out and explore.
Once again I wrap myself in prayer and routine and wonder as the familiar leads me into unexpected revelation.
A single bead of water gathers at the bottom of a twig, quivers, then drops into the unseen day.
copyright © Anne E. Kitch 2012