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Missing GodMissing God in the English Countryside
Gems were tossed lightly upon the strings of grass;
The lake was a stained glass reflecting the grey textured sky,
And the drizzle sketched the buildings, like fine pencil lines.
The tiny girl tiptoed clumsily, skipping the puddles on the path
A plastic bag shielding her head as a turban filled with air.
The wind made the dandelions cry, blowing some Spring away,
And she wondered when she would see God in her own way again.
She waited under a willow and nestled her chin in the coat,
Observing two boys walking by: wet shoes on the sizzling trail;
Their hair dropping on their necks, glimmering with pearls of rain.
The girl shivered, and wished for the sea of her country far away.
She thought of the eroded rocks, breathing the snowy foam;
Of the swelling wash of the waves across the vast blue sheet;
Of the sun cascading gleams on the feeble horizon line;
And she remembered when she had seen God in her own way.
Then, the light unsealed the leav
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