He Didn't Have To Do It

Beyond shadows and silver light
lie blue-bonnet fields etched in emerald fields
lying in wait for morning light
to unveil the glory of Easter morn.

Indian paints dot the rolling prarie there,
while the sleepy sun struggles to find its footing,
locked in their blooming waltz with the dew
and precious morning light.

And there, the sweet grass dances to and fro'
in this morning's attested glory,
weaving the tangled emerald canvas
into hues of green and gold.

I am there upon the field with the rising sun.
He who paints the sky carries me there in His arms.
I bide my precious time upon this mornings field,
fortuned audience to his majestic work.

Shadows make way for amber rays,
crowned in scarlet fair,
rushing to halo distant clouds
upon this morns' horizon.

"He didn't have to do this."
He didn't have to paint these amber rays
or hues of red, gold and green upon this place
I call my true heart's home.

He didn't have to move the emerald sea before me
into its sweet surreal dance.
Or, breathe life into the blue bonnets precious bell
so that I might arrive at the sight of my refuge.

He didn't have to call upon the cardinals song,
nor the blue jays call as they played
upon those sprawling yawning oaks
that echoe in song behind me.

He didn't have to bless me with my sons
or their health this Easter morning.
Or, instill this sense of wonder
that keeps them searching and believing
with baskets in hand.

He didn't have to give me His greatest gift
of unconditional love to whom I awake to
with compassion's sweet kiss and gentle touch.
No words. When she says nothing, she says everything.

He didn't have to wake me this Easter morning
to find her resting by my side once again,
her arm draped over me in contented slumber.

Anointed in love,
I trespass the Heavens
in these quiet moments,
aptly called gifts,
in this place I call home.

He didn't have to do that.

Copyright, Kevin V. Reese, 2004