Under a Milk-White Sky

Feeling sad today. Out in this moist little woods, that is newly slicked with the rains. All is fragrant, revived. But I come and cannot take it in. Bells chime in the distance and a light breeze tickles my chin. My tea is warm, peachy in fragrance. I have everything I need. But I feel empty. A bit lost. Swung off in the opposite direction, outside the orb of the Dance, just beyond the electric feel of Your fingertips. The sky is milk-white. Opaque. The pine trembles. The ivy holds, yet, some remnants of the rain's passing. Who am I, and where am I? It was good, really good to talk to T. last night. I felt, in those short hours, that I knew who I was and where. A gift! The tenor of Your Voice easing through the voice of a too-long-forgotten friend.

We have sought the LORD our God; we have sought him, and he has given us peace on every side. 2 Chronicles 14:7