Month: May 2023

dawn: the emergence of light gives us hope

/ Joy Lenton / 4 Comments 

Splash of glory

Sunlight laps at the edges
of fading night,
lifts its concealing cloak

by slow increments 
as dawn begins to break
and a sleepy world awakes.

Petals unfurl themselves 
to welcome sun,
spread wide their fragrant arms

like a benediction 
quivering in the breeze
as they bless who they please.

Birds announce their presence—
morning chorus 
resounds into skeined sky

as orchestrated 
hymns of grateful praise
rise, fill the airways.

It’s new every morning,
old as the hills,
this bright splash of glory

freely fills and spills,
lifts our hearts heavenward
in reverence and awe.
© joylenton

Dawn blessing

Bless the dawn—
the dawn of creation,
the dawn of sentience,
the dawn of creatures
great and small,
the dawn of gardens and plants,
of flowers and waterfalls.

Bless the dawn—
the dawn of mankind,
the dawn of hope
to encourage our hearts,
the dawn of new life,
the dawn of embracing it
with joy, wonder, and love.

Bless the dawn—
the dawn of invention,
the dawn of innovation
through the centuries,
the dawn of creativity,
the dawn of great ideas,
of light igniting for you and me.

— joylenton

garden: a place where God meets with us

/ Joy Lenton / 10 Comments

“I think that if ever a mortal heard the voice of God it would be in a garden at the cool of the day.” — Frank Frankfort Moore

In the garden

Christ walks in the garden,
yes, this spring-fresh orchard 
where gaudy peacocks strut,

where incipient apples grow
and the trees speak
to me of bearing his weight,

while bluebells shoot
their vivid heads skyward
to match the now droopy tulips,
and green plants emerge

blinking into the sun
like newly startled birds
before the heavy,
drenching rainstorm comes.

Christ walks in the garden
of my soul — he comes 
barefoot and vulnerable,

with a steady tread
firm and purposeful,
as he hopes I will notice

his presence, fragrant 
as the morning dew
I prepare to dip my toes

into, and rise refreshed
as if I’ve experienced 
peerless peace and rest.
© joylenton

“I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting station through which God speaks to us every hour, if we will only tune in.” — George Washington Carver

Cascades: observe all the blossoming

/ Joy Lenton / 6 Comments

“Attention is the beginning of devotion.” — Mary Oliver

Experiences flow through our lives, our days, resembling a gushing waterfall that cascades. They arrive as moments of quiet reflectiveness, an exuberant drowning in sound sometimes, or a sudden stir of the heart that takes our breath away.

We experience a snapshot of seconds, a microcosm of inhabited moments, and a movie reel of minutes that pass all too fleetingly.

We all have occasions when we long to turn back time. Wouldn’t it be great to freeze-frame the highlights and press pause on the best moments of our lives?

Perhaps we could try to pay greater attention to it all, especially the golden glimpses that warm our souls.


Observing our lives is a lot like prayer. It’s gratitude in motion. A sacred act of appreciation and devotion.

We see more when we look with deliberate intent, seek to record with our eyes, and store away in our minds.

I’ve attempted to do that here as I view a pear tree releasing its blossom, listen to birdsong in the trees and the midday hymn singing.

Cascades

Cascades of confetti 
carpet the grass, veil the trees,
drape the garden 
plants, line the pathways,
as soft white blossom
drifts silently, 
detaches itself 
from its original home
on the pyrus communis
where it belongs.

Cascades of birdsong 
trill through the trees,
be they walnut, pear,
apple or oak
or magnificent magnolia,
as it lilts through the leaves,
threads its way
between the boughs, and arches
across the divide
where bony branches stretch.

Cascades of voices
sing out their praise,
whether wobbly and weak
or with vigour and strength
as the notes 
signal a hymn, unknown 
or familiar, 
for each one stems from
a grateful heart 
tuned into hope and love.
© joylenton

“Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.” — Henry Ward Beecher