Friday, September 7, 2012

streaming over

At the impulse of your love, at the impulse of your LOVE, at the IMPULSE of your love--it comes. Streaming fowler--rockhill memos--names off the record--the positioning of gertrude woolf lighton--jim edd spencer--subjects geary logan lankes leighton had in common. A sheet filled with ideas, my truck cruising over the late green of north carroll county, toward work in chillicothe. spirit sparking flashes, lines of data, to a writer's glee, your whee, your manner of business, downloading file after file. Thanks Lord. This is what you bring to me.
You heard my cry and flooded my data banks to overflowing. The abundance of mulberry essence, your sense, your timing, your impulse, effortless, soundless music to my mind, all you, sweet you, my God. It comes.

Remember it, as the evidence lays ready to the right of the keyboard. Recall the goodness,the magnitude of him, who leads you into MORE. Delectable, always tending to your needs. Thank you Lord. Pull me back to your name, your genuine attention, your assurance, your fullness, your poetry, your symphony of good coded in my mitochondria.

you restore missing files from the hard drive, files buried within other files, you help me extract and consolidate: geary, spencer, memos, holly street, lighton. with clear air you release organization, thank you, thank jesus, thank you father, transfer complete, blessed be your magnificent power, your blessed interface, your pronouced exactitude,
"Delight in Me," you whisper close. On this cool day in September, yard blessed with new green shoots, leaves chanting your praise, windows open to refresh the house, cats napping and listening to the rustle breeze, I delight, Oh Lord, I remember, Oh God, I smile. Fingers tapping, pauses choosing, yes, to your credit, you are worthy of word and song.