Word

I had thought, been taught, to hear You, seek and expect You, taste and touch and glimpse... You...mostly through your written word. I had thought. Been taught.

But these past days when the breeze has been undoing me, whispering across my skin, and the sound of a single bird "caw, caw, cawing" has pierced my inattention, I have become again a child... seeking you first not in words but in wineberries, red and tart that burst sweet and sour on my tongue. Feeling you in sunlight that plays and alters my very body, turning me golden brown.

I find myself drinking You, biting and pressing You against the roof of my mouth, closing my eyes and hearing You in the sound of a violin, seeing you in the blink of my children's dark lashes. You touch and grace me from the time of morning's pale light 'til darkness descends... and the stars say softly, "Didn't we tell you, child? The glory of God, the glory of God, the glory of God..."