She Imbues the Water with Heaven’s Scent

God is in the Mammatus Clouds who suckles our souls,

She imbues the water with Heaven’s scent, then

showers the daffodils amidst the stands of trees.

The Maple buds glint like swirling swords  

in a ray of the sun,  God’s within, without the sunlight!

The river gently ripples with the ghost of geese.

What echo of what geese still swim home so soused and loose!?!

Concentric rings of waves fade

into a hazy watercolor tapestry reflection of the banks of trees;

Soft shades of speckled blues and deep pink

flowers the quaking river,

sponged red and green dabs paint the waves

 of this pastoral scene that seems to float upstream.

And we think of….Monet…Van Gogh…Degas…

Would they have done justice to this dreamy scene?

All waves are linked to God’s heavens.

God is the ebb and flow, She is the tides, high and low!

                They say, the trees have weathered the winter well!

                Soon to be untethered from the ice and snow!

                New growth, amidst the brambles, reaches out toward God,

                as nature’s debris feeds the soul of the forest!  Life begins again…

We’ll hear the Spring sing Her song

of the marshes of the bird, insect, and frog,

She speaks too fast in an ancient dialog;

I’m pure energy!  Neither created nor destroyed!

God swiftly sings over and over as She descends the falls,

to defy the belief that She is dead!

Without Her elements what would we be?

Not even a bit of glass?  Not even a state of gas!

We follow Her to the bridge that spans one town to another,

this overpass feels like a cool embrace

as we gaze at God’s waves in a languid state of grace.

Still some anchor their lives in storage,

weighed down by wants and what was said.

God’s in the sound of the rush of healing streams,

till our fever breaks free, there we’ll be,  to become

one raindrop in God’s body of spiritual H20;

All mankind should have access to My clean water!

Every man fed off My living oceans!

God lives in the ideal ether of the deepest heavens.

How can we begin to emulate Her?

Shine on, you crazy diamond!  She seems to say,

as we’re lifted into Her cupped hands once again

and She blesses us.

About Lisa Tremback

I started writing in Elementary school and was published in school and local newspapers. I graduated from Columbia College in Chicago and studied under the poet, Bill Knox. I have been published at Colorado State University's underground newspaper. I enjoy writing almost every day and love to write about my relationship with G-d.

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