Severe Glory

Storm clouds come,
how loved you are,
how you bring the

steep pitch of heaven
close to our
exhausted earth.

Moving, lifting, giving
form to the sad blue
sea of sky,

relieving it of the numb
burden to always shine;
giving dramatic shape

color and wild wonder
to our begging eyes.
And beyond that,

you sink into our souls’
quicksand, though you
stay in command;

knowing your infinite
decree is to bring
a savage-severe

glory to this moment
of vast power that
strides on your soaring

trail, overtaking
the eagles’ fears.
Come, storm come.

By Ruth Rehberg

storm clouds over green grass


Photo of the authorRuth C. Rehberg lives with her family in the hills of western Wisconsin, daily reveling in the bounty of beauty around her Garden Valley home. Some of her happiest moments involve walking the roads and woods, scooting on her petunia-pink moped, porch-sitting every minute possible, breathing in the joy of the twilight-golden hour, and reading until her eyes can’t stay open. Gratitude to God for the beauty of the earth is her life’s work.

Cloud photo by R Harton

Sky Vision

Twilight is near, the air is still and hushed, a few birds are winging by, intent on settling away for the long night ahead; seeking a place of protection and privacy. Simply, rest. I stand and watch ― the birds ― the sky ― both competing for my eyes to linger on.

Do they see it too, the sky, the sun-washed colors floating with ease there in the west? Do they notice the great stage that is now set above earth’s darkening horizon? See it as I do? Taking pleasure in some hurried, even careless way? I want to believe they do.

As they ruffle about on some secluded branch checking feather tips, curled claws and spiked beak; perhaps, they pause to appreciate the melting mauve streaks, glowing trails of scarlet, and faint wisp of teal spreading far out before them; such subtle hues mixing with that familiar ageless blue.

Living as they do, constantly racing in the sky, diving and twisting, experts at maneuvering any tricky type of airwave; maybe only they know the true colors out there. Air and atmosphere, rain and sleet, dew and snow, mist and cloud.

Seeing every dust particle, like a cat in the dark, the detailed depths of relative space belongs to them, familiar as the back of their own tail feathers. Sensing the tiniest change in every wind current, still comfortable with evening vapors clinging gently to their delicate bodies. So, I keep wondering…

Can a swirling sunset enter their perception and bestow a kind of peace and blessing on the remains of their day, just as it does mine? Does it ever enter the mind of a common sparrow to appreciate incredible form and beauty thrown abroad for all to view? For all to be enthralled, for just a moment?

Yes, I believe it does. Any eye can behold this rich splendor of living color. Here and now, even forever. Open your eyes, along with a bird. See the sky. Sing for joy.

 sparrow on branch amid colorful leaves


Photo of the authorRuth C. Rehberg lives with her family in the hills of western Wisconsin, daily reveling in the bounty of beauty around her Garden Valley home. Some of her happiest moments involve walking the roads and woods, scooting on her petunia-pink moped, porch-sitting every minute possible, breathing in the joy of the twilight-golden hour, and reading until her eyes can’t stay open. Gratitude to God for the beauty of the earth is her life’s work.

Photo by of sparrow by Globalphoto

Cloudscape

Here they come
racing for the sun,

stark white against
the vast blue,

from out of nowhere
you or I

have ever been;
though they are

simply weightless
shreds of

beaten air,
there’s a bright

power lurking
in the innocence

they wear.

By Ruth C. Rehberg

 clouds over sawgrass prairie


Photo of the authorRuth C. Rehberg lives with her family in the hills of western Wisconsin, daily reveling in the bounty of beauty around her Garden Valley home. Some of her happiest moments involve walking the roads and woods, scooting on her petunia-pink moped, porch-sitting every minute possible, breathing in the joy of the twilight-golden hour, and reading until her eyes can’t stay open. Gratitude to God for the beauty of the earth is her life’s work.

Photo of clouds over the Sawgrass Prairie in Everglades National Park, Florida, USA, by William Silver

Immense

It is on everything.
I mean everything.
Nothing goes untouched;
it is that powerful,

that silent,
that large,
the enormity of its
presence is incalculable.

Yet, I have never noticed
anything else so humble,
so pure, that I want to
press my lips

to its slippery beauty.
Though it’s not my tongue
that thirsts for this,
but the dry soul of

my inner being,
needing heaven’s pure
tears that daily flood
this waiting ground.

So, there it is, world-
wide every morning
for any of us to see;
this smooth sea

of clear pearls
that sweeps over
our dry lives…
the immense miracle of dew.

By Ruth Rehberg

morning dew drops on the mountain grass


Photo of the authorRuth C. Rehberg lives with her family in the hills of western Wisconsin, daily reveling in the bounty of beauty around her Garden Valley home. Some of her happiest moments involve walking the roads and woods, scooting on her petunia-pink moped, porch-sitting every minute possible, breathing in the joy of the twilight-golden hour, and reading until her eyes can’t stay open. Gratitude to God for the beauty of the earth is her life’s work.

Photo by Leonid Tit

Veined Scales

Shaped like a bullet
slim and tight
wrapped in sheer

veined scales
it carries an air of
haughty authority

ready to expose its
regal underbelly if
a warm day comes

six ruffled ears
of fluttering
royal purple

edged with trickles
of bronzed zebra
stripes holding a

viper’s forked tongue
split three ways
spitting gold fuzz

from the hidden hot
depths like a lethal
being long trapped

an Iris has emerged
as queen into the
jungle-wild June air

By Ruth Rehberg

a single blue iris amid green leaves


Photo of the authorRuth C. Rehberg lives with her family in the hills of western Wisconsin, daily reveling in the bounty of beauty around her Garden Valley home. Some of her happiest moments involve walking the roads and woods, scooting on her petunia-pink moped, porch-sitting every minute possible, breathing in the joy of the twilight-golden hour, and reading until her eyes can’t stay open. Gratitude to God for the beauty of the earth is her life’s work.

Photo by Alexandr Zyryanov