*~*Trying to be a cute fruit*~* *~*Sharing the harvest*~* *~*Enjoy the Feast*~*
The dishes, the laundry, I mop the floor,
between the battle of everyday norm;
lump in my throat that ceases to move,
tears behind eyelids have something to prove.
Called out and chosen, quietly I rise
to an occasion I hate to describe.
Swish, swash, fold and turn;
still I ache and heart still yearns.
Breath of His voice heard over the dryer,
"Deep within there still is the fire."
Rested at peace, He shakes my core,
I capture a moment I've known before.
Blessed assurance, not just the melody.
Signed and sealed, waiting on delivery.
Count the blessings to and fro;
it's a routine I've come to know.
First fruits, first thanks not thought of at the time,
when faced with this mountain I am to climb.
Heart and legs stronger, my opponent, I'll outrun;
first blessing of thanks, "it's not day one."