A single church bell tolls across the field
And on the breeze a pair of red kites glide
Until above the scrubby copse are seen
No more, and in the matted branches hide.
And though it’s just gone eight o’clock, a drift
Of tall white ox-eye daisies turn their face
Towards the warm midsummer sun which gilds
The crimson poppies in their brief displays.
I am a human being. I am not marked
By things to do, or things I should have done,
Nor need I prove myself by many works,
Or tell a watching world how fast I run.
And yet… for all I know this to be true,
Sometimes I fear to stop, be still and breathe,
As if the doing were the measure of
My worth and not the grace I have received.
So let the earthquake, wind and fire recede,
And let me hear the gentle whisper speak,
Not just for now on this serene retreat,
But when the storms are breaking week by week.
The Covenant Renewal Blog 