about a starry-night sonnet

Have you ever had a week where your mind feels like complete gobbledigook?

This past week has been like that for me.  It's been a sort of worthless, swirly land of jumbled thoughts and to-do list's inside my head, and it definitely doesn't make me my best self.  More than once, I've been in the middle of a conversation and just trailed off and stopped talking because something I have to do later in the day comes to mind.  Not something I want to become a habit. I want to be a person who focuses on being present, whether that means focusing on a friend when we're in conversation, focusing on the Lord and what He's teaching me, or focusing on my writing and what I'm creating -- I'm learning that without the discipline to be present in each minute, life can kind of tumble out of control.  As I'm figuring that out, I'm working extra-hard to protect certain parts of my day and commit them to what I find important, especially creating things.  The 10 Minute rule has been a life-saver when I want to do something, but don't have forever.  Have you tried it?  I love hearing about those of you who are finding it beneficial!  

Anyway, that is all background to say that tonight I set aside time to write, and in the midst of feeling scattered, it just felt good.  I didn't have forever, but I had some time, and some time is sometimes good enough, you know?  As a result of my whirly-swirly brain, what I wrote was a sonnet (haven't written one of those since 4th year of college) inspired by this song I listened to today, a picture I colored in kid's church (see above -- I'm obviously an artist) and going hiking this weekend.  Go figure.  But trust me, all you spazzy-brained folks like me, your mind will thank you if you just stop and focus on one thing at a time. 

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more lovely 

Should I have diamonds on the soles of shoes,

and glide around the black above,

a thousand years of dancing wouldn’t do

to paint the sky so tenderly with love,

to scatter heavenly light against the black

and match the reaching, magnificent bounds

of starry nights that shake your plan on track

to water buds of faith in us on ground -

to, at once, make true the unknowing size

of all things, a largeness that seems too much,

to remind us, though small, we are your prize

more lovely than each star you touch.