Fall on the Snow

A woman once fell upon the snow,
Her heart asking the sky for answers.

The lake spread out in silence
As trees framed each question.

Every part of her surroundings
Accepted her, unconditional.

The sky watched her make angels
In the soft keeping snow.

The tops of the trees shushed her
With a lullaby of pine needles.

The path beside her feet
Asked nothing of her.

And the rock at her back
Kept vigil all the while.

There is a place in the deep woods
That will hold the memory of

The falling of a woman
On the snow.

Jenneth Graser

Cycles that Flow

Rain that falls on the inside of the skin
Hits the roof of the heart
With loud presence.

Gathers in the gutters,
Streams across the walls of flesh
Hitting hard.

Such rain may drive,
Drizzle, splatter, drip
Drench and shower.

The soul may not know
What to do with such a
Downpour.

It is best to allow the rain
To collect in pools of
Reflection.

And to not allow the pools
To dam up
In any way.

Once you have reached a sufficient
Level, you may form
Rivers.

You may flood even,
If you so choose;
Into any place.

It is through rainfall
Heading for the sea of
Eventual evaporation,

That you may once again
Precipitate your way
Into cycles that flow.

Jenneth Graser

Photograph - Hannes Kock, Florian Ortkrass and Briton Stuart Wood - The Rain Room

Expectations - Five Minute Friday

What have I discovered along the way?
To have expectations
is a very natural inclination.
But to listen to the voices of each?

I'm choosing to dial down the clamour,
by tuning into the silence -

Of God's expectations.
I am not expected to be anything
other than me.

I find the greatness of love makes room
for surprises and a bended
fork in the road.

I find as I cause what I expect to whisper
away on the four winds,
I feel lighter and less
disappointed.

I feel open to something new about life,
about God, about me.

Let the things I expect:
not define me as much.

Let the ways of life:
be ways of wonder
and trust.

Jenneth Graser