Tryst

I too await a flutter sound
of wings and holy things
for something in a text I found
and what the Spirit brings

It must be more than symbols
tokens, creeds or signs
mission bells or timbrels
fruit from earthly vines

What Cherokee called: a thin place
Or Moses, holy ground
What’s found on children’s faces
when they from bed on Christmas bound

I care not for the upper room
the fire light long gone-
Without the Lord, a darkened tomb
For the living Christ I long

I’m looking for that meeting place
that is not made with hands
So close I feel His breath of grace
a glimpse of heaven’s lands

Paul saw a man in glory
As did John on Patmos isle
So I rise and seek Him early
when I hear His voice, I smile

                                                             -id