Magpie Tales #21
The span of our years are like the rise, and descent of a sunflower in a beloved garden.
God's thirsty sprouts yearning to break through the outer crest, we rise like the heat of fire's spark.
From the time we can stand on our own, we reach out like empty bowls of hunger longing to be filled.
We crave the independence of the outer banks, grasping for our own way. We struggle to lick the sky with our own array of colors, like a fireworks display. We eat from life's nurturing hand with the fervor of missionaries taking and giving two fold back. For on the descent, is a slow cascade of grace. We stand still, but on shaky limbs. Once again, we reach out, but now with full bowls of life's colored evidence of growth.
The callus knees of a well tended garden. Now contented to rest where we lay, for we wait for
a greater sky.