Ambling and Gliding
Through the air sliding
On a path of w's z's and the occasional q.
I stumble out of my honeycomb home
A comfortable place to say the least.
My senses are not keen as I tumble into the screens
of life. Every moment like a waked napping child
groggy and surly. But as we sleep we grow.
So. I don't really mind.
How is it accidents can become miracles with a little
perspective and band-aids? Is it perhaps...?
Bigger than us? And what looks like ambling
rambling and stumbling is really
a beautiful thing. to God. to our real friends.
Sometimes stumbling leads to more focus
or broken bones, but as a bumble bee stumbles she never really falls.
So my ambling, gliding and sliding is
my awkward way of walking
that I may know He catches my stumble
and puts my feet on higher places.
It may not be a good poem, but it helps me to feel better.