God of Promises
by Tim Haut

The battered boat sat tilted among the rocks,
a husk of hope left behind after the storm
like a locust's shell clinging to a tree.
The old man sighed, smiling
as a pair of rabbits scurried past,
sniffing the wet grass of morning.
So much weariness, so much sorrow
wracked his heart,
that even this little thing
was a welcome harbinger
of some goodness residing 
in this broken, befouled world.
And then he saw it,
a glory spanning the still-clouded sky,
an arch of colors reaching into 
the storm-soaked recesses of his heart.
And this was Noah's prayer:
a simple gasp of gratitude 
to the God of promises, 
a trust that no matter what challenges 
were yet to come,
the God of rainbows
would be faithful.

(Comments to Tim at timothyhaut@yahoo.com.)