Believing
Sunset blooms like a bruise in the wintry gray sky. Gentle night will bring snow flurries falling like stars. Kia waits on the porch to see.
Sunset blooms like a bruise in the wintry gray sky. Gentle night will bring snow flurries falling like stars. Kia waits on the porch to see.
Mia whistles, not a song, but a cry like the wind. Twilight mockingjays answer. Tidying her one plate, one cup, one fork, she calls to them.
His thumb-twiddling makes the dog nervous. His dog’s panting makes the man jumpy. He twiddles all the more. Finally the forgiving sun rises.
“Are you saved?” asks a new friend, by email. Ada settles under an oak tree and replies, “God saves me every day, whether I like it or not.”
She’s praying. It looks like any other silence, but he knows. She’s doing dishes. God is in her eyes. She turns, smiling. He’s saved again.
Each and every person on earth stopped talking for a day. God blew a gentle wind through their hearts, and the world was forever changed.