And the wrens have returned to their nesting,
In the hollow of the oak,
Where his heart once had been,
And he lifts up his arms in a blessing,
For being born again.
And the streams are all swollen with winter,
Winter unfrozen, and free to run away now.
And I’m amazed when I remember
Who it was that built this house
And with the rocks I cry out,
Be praised for all your tenderness
By these works of your hands,
Suns that rise and rains that fall to bless
And bring to life your lands,
Look down upon this winter wheat
And be glad that you have made,
Blue for the sky and the color green,
That fills these fields with praise.

-Rich Mullins



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2 responses to “Life

  1. Debbie in CA : )

    I awoke to a misty morn with rivulets of recent rain veining the leaves. Aaaahhhh how I love living in a Sylvan wood with nothing to do today but encourage my children to educate themselves. I put on Lorenna McKennit’s Elemental and showered late. I thought of you as her lilting lyrics wafted through the mists inside and out. I pray you write with deep wells of insiration springing forth. I stand at the edge of the pool and peer down, eager to scoop up the floating words of beauty and savor them. May God bless you this day as you direct thoughts to prose.

  2. “And the streams are all swollen with winter,
    Winter unfrozen, and free to run away now.”

    Those are interesting lines. I’ve been thinking about them since you first posted this. What an image of potential, once withheld, now free to pour out with abundance.

    I like that. Thanks for sharing it!

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