A Poem: Waking


We wake up to God every day,
the sights, the sounds.
God is a long vowel in the soul
seeking expression.

We open the blinds, the windows.
We see God arrives
to greet himself in us.
The sweetness of recognition.

We see the birds swoop past
fast in flight,
intent on some mission for breakfast,
for life.

We breathe, and drink in the
cleansed air, the young green of leaves.
Some state, ‘God is in his heaven,
so all is right with the world’.

Others say, ‘God is here, right now,
all is well, has ever been.’

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
November 2020


3 thoughts on “A Poem: Waking

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