Your whispers

this bright, windy Sunday morning
finds Mothers' Day
all about celebrating You,
the best one whom I've ever known:

Your harbor sprawls in the sun,
gulls soar and glide,
as my tide withdraws from You,
leaving in my wake
tangled treasures
all wrapped up in blue,
framed in green,
this sacred pairing,
this verdant indigo scene
that shows me where we have been,
and hints at where we will go;

the scent of wild roses
and young cedars
leave my head
filled with Your whispers.

May 9, 2010, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.