“Blessed are the poor in spirit”

A beech tree in winter, white

Intricacies unconcealed

Against sky blue and billowed

Clouds, carries in his emptiness

Ripeness: sap ready to rise

On signal, buds alert to burst

To leaf. And then after a season

Of summer a lean ring to remember

The lush fulfilled promises.

Empty again in wise poverty

That lets the reaching branches stretch

A millimeter more towards heaven,

The bole expanded every so slightly

And push roots into the firm

Foundation, lucky to be leafless:

Deciduous reminder to let it go.

…from “Holy Luck” …from the book, “Subversive Spirituality” …by Eugene Peterson

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…from The Message: Matthew 5:

You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.