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POEM: Burning Bushes

AuthorlaurakauffmanPosted onOctober 23, 2018October 15, 2019CategoriesPoetry

Watch: it always comes
right when you expect it least.
The light slants, enchants;
your spirit, wakening, hums
and rouses the sleeping beast.

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One thought on “POEM: Burning Bushes”

laurakauffman says:

May 23, 2019 at 10:34 am

Reblogged this on Laura Kauffman and commented:

One of my first published poems. It’s always nice to revisit old friends.

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About Laura

Laura Kauffman is a poet and writer living in the Loess Hills of Iowa.

She is the author of Carolina Clay: A Collection of Poems on Love and Loss. Her writing and poems have been featured in Fathom Magazine, The Mudroom, Christians in Context, and The Core Omaha.

When she’s not writing, she can be found exploring the outdoors with her 15 chickens, 4 pets, 3 sons, and 1 husband, Chris.

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“The God of curved space, the dry God is not going to help us, but the son whose blood spattered the hem of his mother’s robe.” -Jane Kenyon #ashwednesday #rethinkchurch #led #lent #poetry #christianpoetry #janekenyon #poet #jesus #mary

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It's stupid cold outside, so it seemed like a good day for pictures with candles and poems about light. I was reading this interview that Einstein did with Life magazine in 1955. Mystery, he said, is all around us. The work of trying to comprehend just a tiny glimpse each day? "It is enough," he said. So on this ridiculously cold day, I'm looking for glimpses of mystery in the slant of sunlight, in fresh-scented candles, in over-sized sweaters, and in french-press coffee. It is enough. #poetry #poetrycommunity #cold #winter #mystery #enough #einstein #lifemagazine #christianpoetry

Because everyone loves a poem about dead chickens... 😂 #countrypoet #poetry #remembrance #attention #christianpoetry

It’s 40 degrees, so of course I’m daydreaming about my garden. Last year, things didn’t want to grow. I’m considering the soil - I never really have before. I just take it for granted. But what’s in that loess? What does it want to grow? When my grandmother died, I realized I had rarely considered my roots. What soil was I made from? What made up the generations, the women, who came before me? #christianpoetry #heritage #garden #soil #women #history #poetsofinstagram #poetry #poetrycommunity

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