God’s whisper winds through the forest
Only seen by the sifting of the branches
As it drifts through the trees,
Flowing like water running through their leafy fingers.
God’s whisper races through the fields,
Heard only by the amber ocean of grass
As the blades dance rhythmically
To a song only they can hear.
God’s whisper scales the mountains
Tasted only by the snow as it rises like a tongue
To lick at the sky
And savor a small taste of heaven,
Only to have to return again to Earth,
And huddle in a pile to await God’s coming.
God’s whisper flows into the Church
Drifting through the dusty, golden air,
Paddling like a canoe through the streams of ocher sunlight,
Here God’s whisper forms a voice that rises
Up to God Himself as a hymn,
Sung by a joyous choir standing in the hard, oak pews,
Here God’s whisper becomes a taste,
In the blood of the wine
And the flesh of the bread
Finally inside its body again.
Here God’s whisper becomes seen
As a golden cross upon a linen alter,
Shining like a sun in a darkened eternity,
Here God’s whisper becomes a hope,
As the faithful enter through wooden doors of the church,
And kneel down to pray.