Three haiku

Sun entering woods:
the Word slips in without
breaking the silence.

Bird on a thin stalk
in the breeze knows wordlessly
Spirit’s gravity.

Prayers drift with the brook;
ignore them. Instead: the Sun’s
hand on your back.

Weather Report

though at times it will be unfair,
God letting the rain fall on the just
and the unjust,
the low pressure zone reminding us
how little is about us.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

August 7, 2020

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