the trout run is early this year.
the taste of autumn in the air.
all too beautiful for words.
but words will have to do, as long as we leave enough space in between them for the air to speak.
the Ganaraska River is filled with trout swimming upstream, making their way from Lake Ontario, up through town, over the rocks, past the fisherman. impasse after impasse, there’s no stopping them.
come on they say,
get to the task.
the way is straight and narrow.
i love this poem by Godfrey John:
(Isaiah 54:2; Judges 18:10)
Friend, look close:
beneath your feet
is holy ground.
Under all questions
the heart longs
for a people, a place
in the morning light.
place is community,
whatever lies bright
in each of us.
Now under your hand
a purpose springs.
For place is prayer
in the wilderness.
As you walk the wastes
Love wills in you a sweet land . . .
let love go out of you left and right;
let each secret prayer embrace
the people in you, the desolate.
Place is the practice:
*Enlarge the place of thy tent, and let them stretch forth the curtains of thine habitations: spare not, lengthen thy cords, and strengthen thy stakes…Isaiah 54:2
*When ye go, ye shall come unto a people secure, and to a large land: for God hath given it into your hands; a place where there is no want of any thing that is in the earth. Judges 18:10