The Wind

Some days there’s a soothing presence
that moves in my mind
like a gentle breeze on a hot day,
a slight rustling in the cottonwood
that says “there will be peace and goodness.”

Some days there’s a stirring
that bends the stems,
a deep swaying of a prophet’s heart
that could send him into the very palace
speaking angry and ancient mutterings
of judgment and wrath.

Some days there’s a storm,
a raging of broken branches,
brittle leaves ripped from trees
and sent scattering
across yards and fields,
caught against the black-splintered rails
of untended fences.

Some days there’s a dead silence,
a crippling stillness,
an absence of nearness to anyone or anything,
days when boulders could fall into the abyss
and make not a single ripple.

Those are the days that scare me,
the days when I rely most
on knowing the Hand I cannot feel,
the God Whose Presence does not depend
on my sensing.

H. Arnett

About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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