Seasoned Prayers

My prayers like glitter cascade through my mind.

Effervescent lilac-vanilla skies.

The pink sunrise mutes the blue night’s goodbye.

Sleepy clouds whisper as Dawn begins to rise.

Stars like jewels crown the mountains’ highest peaks.

Dark clouds gather and speak a prayer so sweet.

I smell wet grass under rain-drenched melodies.

Sage and honeysuckle growing wild and free.

A crisp apple sliced one lazy afternoon.

The warmth of the sunlight radiates my mood.

Fields of white jasmine and red gardenias bloom.

The red summer nights take away my blues.

Wrapped in warm blankets beneath the night’s sky.

The smell of smoke rising, cedar and pine.

Laughter fades as the night quiets my mind.

Crackling in the fire, God’s aroma nearby.

Silence cascades behind the noise of my dreams.

Eucalyptus trees wrapped in ivy’s green leaves.

My prayer a garland of surrender and grace.

His aroma brings a pleasant, gentle embrace.

Cinnamon, coffee, and honey stirred just right.

The scent of His spirit floats peacefully by.

Wrapped in wool and cotton, I seek Him, divine.

I’m enveloped in His presence, soul entwined.

A glance to heaven, eyes shutting slowly.

Black sweet tea, brewed piping hot and steeping.

Yearning for His presence as the cold sets in.

I watch through the curtains, November’s rain begins.

The scent of oil covered weathered leather.

Pine cones and glitter, boxes to unfold.

The wind whistles hymns, His rhythm to behold.

Memories frozen now etched in my soul.

Grey clouds abound as silent snowflakes fall.

Visions of warm days, He’ll one day recall.

Its embers and smoke, pines now lit inside.

He sparkles like frost on my windowsill’s side.

When the air is sharp and it hurts to breathe.

His aroma restores what the cold tries to thieve.

White frost’s glimmer reflects midnight’s bright lights.

Time curls up slow like smoke clouds late at night.

My prayers, delightful as the seasons intertwine.

The birds sing as the squirrels peek outside.

Frosted mornings, melting snow, the sun, and blue skies.

Primrose, and daffodils, sweet lilac, and moss thrive.

Dew ascends as the morning time arrives

The bees buzzing, singing heavenly praises.

Trees budding and waking, memories unwind.

The Lord above smiles on all of His kind.

The soil is rich, dark, broken, and tilled.

The birth of the season now sown into the fields.

His aroma like tree bark and sap found near.

My heart leaps with joy as grace gathers round here.

In every season, He appeared, I do recall.

The fragrance, the warmth, and His perfume I applaud.

Lilac, cedar, pine, cinnamon, and rain.

His aroma remains: my night, my dawn, my day.

-AB-