The Trinity on my run


This morning while the sun helloed the dawn
I spied in morning’s kindling light
A tree, dark-limbed, crouching to the earth
Branch kissing erect grass, brown and brittle
And in that blessed intersection
A bird flitted in between

A picture of the Trinity–
The wintered earth, the Creating One
The stooping tree, the Savior fair
The bird in its midst, the Spirit’s wings
And I the bracken grass ever reaching
In the great in between.

I would grow no root had the Creator forgotten earth
I would not feel kissed had the tree not stooped
I would lack flighted delight had the Spirit not flown

Oh blessed Trinity!
The stooping, the kissing, the flying–are all Yours
And now mine.