REALLY?

SO…I’m flipping channels this morning and landed on THE First Baptist.  The Youth Minister got up to lead the prayer.  In clear view, a choir member, right behind him, dressed in her angelic robe, leaned over to the lady beside her and whispered, frowny face and all, “He’s got on JEANS..." with an ugly little shake of her head.  (Oh - I wish I could show that clip to her.)  I hope she doesn't freeze that way some day.

All of television land saw his jeans, your highness.  We also saw what you said.  When the preacher does the next altar call, maybe you should hit it.  And lower your nose…if it is raining when church lets out, you’re gonna drown.

Intolerance and hatefulness has got to stop.  You know where I always see it most?

Church.

Lawd, I wonder what it’s gonna take….

AN ORCHESTRA CALLED GREEN (New Life)

And just like that

Under the cover of night

The renowned orchestra called GREEN

Came to town

They came with no instruments

Newborn, naked, and shy

But marched center stage

Fully at attention when morning came

Open and glistening

In tune with the sunrise

Nature

Brand New

LEAVES!

No stage fright –

They lift their heads in unison

Singing as one

Winter deadness made new

Keeping rhythm with the breeze

For months, nothing will stop their song!

With no applause

Or standing ovations

And in most places

No audience

THE GREEN ORCHESTRA!

Singing to the heavens

A crescendo come to life!

Because…

their Conductor lives!

~Sister Saxon~

WINTER LEAVES

As winter leaves,

The last of winter’s leaves

Congregate

In corners, crevices, and crannies

Like old women gossiping

They give occasional nervous flutters

As though having been suspiciously watching for my broom.

I approach and some snap to attention

A small cackling crackle of life

Yes - they had been waiting…

My broom moves and so do they

Lightly awkward

or

Gracefully clumsy

or

Careful in a cavalier kind of way…

They all run away

In rhythm to some unknown energy

Laugh dancing across the porch

I watch.

I consider.

What if it is not the wind?

What if it is of their own accord?


~Sister Saxon~