Let fields lie fallow for a time.
Let sown-weary soil rest for a season.
For even the most fertile field may come
to poor harvest if plowed and tilled too often.
Allow the healing Wind to do its work;
blow across the tired ground long suffering,
its gusts gathering up useless weed and chaff,
grinding into dust that which offers no yield.
And in the fullness of time and season,
plow and till soil refreshed and willing.
Spread new seed along rut and furrow,
then wait and pray for the sacred rain.
© 2017 Richard Keith Carlton
O Lord, in the silence of winter’s chill,
I have found peace in your steadfast love.
In solitude have you placed my spirit,
away from the damaging winds of summer.
When life wilted in the scorching days of
loss and the humid nights of hopelessness.
Into the cold lonely wilderness was I sent.
Not for penance, but for grace to be shown.
For in the frigid mornings of desperation,
along the icy streets of want and need,
I was healed, in flesh and in my spirit,
reborn with each silent gray morning.
Autumn’s disappointment and heartache
faded like dry leaves fallen along a path,
crushed forever into the ground of memory.
Now in the quiet season of life I am at peace,
warm in the knowledge of your unfailing love–
thankful for the purging season of my spirit.
© Richard Keith Carlton