Words of The Lamb

by Grace Danielle Ellis

Out in the field
sitting on
a wooden stool,
the breeze carries
your whisper,
through
dandelion heads,
and lavender.

I’m able to gaze out
into the work of
your hands,
the imago dei
of your majesty,
and I too,
am in awe.

You are close,
the way bees
pollinate flowers,
sweet, the way
nectar drips down
their chins.

You are delicate,
the way they kneel
on petal beds to pray,
to the One, True
Living God.

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