Poem
Wholly Spirit
Wholly Spirit
No ordinary time this day
benchmarked by an evening
of fire, flaming tongues, God
come to Earth and men.
This morning marches towards
summer sun-ups unfolding one
after the other, sunsets pulling
the days forward. "Ordinary"
does not equal uniform, "without
consequence," "unremarkable."
No. I cling to that edge of burning,
its touch marking me with the
power of a Word on singed paper,
emblazoned brightness walking
me through all my days.
Cover image by Neal E. Johnson