Low in the west, crescent descends,
Red-tinged, yet ghostly pale.
On frigid air my breath depends,
Crystalline sharpness I inhale.
Gratitude fills my open heart,
God-flux saturates sight,
Distant canine does its part,
Punctuating chill air of night.
Evening “star” tracks along,
Myriad cousins glitter bright.
Crunch of frost an eerie song,
Retreating back inside.
For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse:
Romans 1:20

Good one Jon!
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Thanks Gary! Just taking the dog out. Not like I was photographing swans.😉
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Well, I marvel at the poetry also as I don’t even think in that word structure. A poet I am not.
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If you read Dora long enough, you may get inspired to give it a try.
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You had me out there with you hearing, seeing, breathing in the infinite beauty and goodness of God. Beautifully written, Jon. Thank you for sharing the starry night in Iowa with you.
Pax,
Dora
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Thank you, Dora! You are very generous!
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Not at all. Thankful for you, brother, and words that turn our eyes to our Maker and the beauty of His creation.
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