My new home is beautiful, but…I can hear the highway, and there are these flies…In this poem I contemplate the deeper meaning of these things. Like many of my poems recently, this was written on my phone (sitting outside) and “published” immediately to a few family and friends via text message.
I hear the humming highway, from my place The achey whine of engines up the grade The soul-less sound of hurry, human-made That clashes with this still and holy space. I swat at gnats that hang around my face, Decide they are not bad, and with a sigh Ignore them till one flies into my eye. Can traffic noise and bugs be little ways God trains me in the one task of my days-- To pay attention rightly and to praise His mercy Who left perfect peace to chase His stubborn sheep, His noisy, buzzing race. Beneath the hum, I hear the silent bass, The Deeper Magic of a world of grace.