I was saddened not to be able to be in church to celebrate Pentecost a few weeks ago. But as it was a warm day, I decided to spend some quiet time on my deck, simply looking, listening, and being open to all the wonders of my back yard. What I experienced was truly a gift.
Our resident mocking-bird trills her
song in a myriad of tongues—in sparrow,
wren, in chickadee and finch; red maple
sways in gentle breeze, a-blush with crimson
leaves of fire, prophesying summer sun
and raindrops dancing down from stars
that will forever sing their gladness in
the darkest of dark nights.
Two sparrows flit around their nest,
sheltering, feeding their tiny young,
all unaware of God’s heart beating,
God’s breath stirring in those fragile
fresh-born birds, mouths open wide
to take in all they can of life’s
And yes, I say, yes, Pentecost
is here. Right here. Spirit whispering
in those flaming leaves, Spirit twittering
in the tongues of birds, Spirit caressing
tiny lives, even my own, as I sit lost
in wonder at this tender, holy
kiss of God.