Sunday Mornings
by Jody --
This is a poem I wrote. I was thinking about how I love my Sunday mornings now that I walk in the freedom of free thought.
Image by Pσweя σf Lσve ♥♥ via FlickrI love Sunday mornings.
Slow, savory moments over my coffee....
or gathering my laptop and glasses
to go to the coffee shop and write.
Not rushing around to hurry off to church
so I can sit in tedious silence
in a big empty building
full of people.
This morning I am going to sit in stillness,
to reflect, to ponder, to wonder.
Pulling on my mud caked hiking boots,
I reach for
my water bottle, journal, sketch book and pens.
I am ready now for my
"church.”
Stretching my limbs in the morning sun,
I walk tall and strong
into the woods.....my sanctuary.
As the trees enfold me in the quiet of the early morning
I pause.
This is where I come to sit in awe,
to appreciate the hills and trees,
the woods and this moss covered ground that I love to tread.
The birdsong enlivens my soul,
the sun, just peeking through the trees finds my shoulders
and warms me from my head to my toes.
I breathe in the fresh air....filling my lungs
with the pure oxygen of liberty.
I am alive. Hallelujah, I am set free.
This is a poem I wrote. I was thinking about how I love my Sunday mornings now that I walk in the freedom of free thought.
Image by Pσweя σf Lσve ♥♥ via FlickrSlow, savory moments over my coffee....
or gathering my laptop and glasses
to go to the coffee shop and write.
Not rushing around to hurry off to church
so I can sit in tedious silence
in a big empty building
full of people.
This morning I am going to sit in stillness,
to reflect, to ponder, to wonder.
Pulling on my mud caked hiking boots,
I reach for
my water bottle, journal, sketch book and pens.
I am ready now for my
"church.”
Stretching my limbs in the morning sun,
I walk tall and strong
into the woods.....my sanctuary.
As the trees enfold me in the quiet of the early morning
I pause.
This is where I come to sit in awe,
to appreciate the hills and trees,
the woods and this moss covered ground that I love to tread.
The birdsong enlivens my soul,
the sun, just peeking through the trees finds my shoulders
and warms me from my head to my toes.
I breathe in the fresh air....filling my lungs
with the pure oxygen of liberty.
I am alive. Hallelujah, I am set free.