When all was still,
My book and I, went up the hill.
We sat and wrote,
Of life and song,
and there the two of us belonged...
We watched the birds dance in the sky,
And asked, 'is this how angels fly?'
We were at one, we were at home,
Were within touch, of spirits known...
On Sunday morning,
While all were still,
My book and I were up the hill.
Shell xx
It was a deep and clear morning... new beginnings... new songs to sing!
ReplyDeleteToday's blog reminds me of Cat Stevens' song, "Morning Has Broken..
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the word
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day...
:)
Amen to that! I have always loved Cat Stevens.
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