A Country walk in Eastern Oregon

As I look to the sky, Lord, I see only your face
The magnificent expansion
in this wide-open space.
I see your creative beginnings
yet “it is finished”, you did say
Jesus, the creator is alive,
but death came on a long ago day.

Trees standing erect
your arms reaching to all
Moss growing around tree trunks
God, thank you for hearing my call.
Tree bark, rough and splintering
yet the cross so very tender
Many years ago, as your life was rendered.

It’s cooler now, dusk settling in-
Branches whistling with rustling of wind.
Wood, often dead
by empty knots and decay-
Sometimes like hearts when “self” is in the way.

The running river, Dear Jesus,
swiftly moving away
Yet you did not run away
on your crucifixion day
You, suspended on the cross,
perhaps with bugs flying ‘round
Yet, your love, so powerful
while others stood on the ground.

So show me how, Lord Jesus, to deny only “me”
Teach me to learn more of you, so that I may see.
Show me how to live, , to never tear others down
Change me so that your creative beauty might be found.