Pampas

With a gentle breeze the small feathery tufts spread trhrough the wind. The earthy smell, routed deep in me reminds me of the mroing in the fields. Sun just glistening through the mist. The ground wet from last nights rain. i went to sit on the stone wall stretching's from east to west and I lift up my feathery pumpas to the wind looking at the way they are carried in the breeze. How much more should i not carry myself in the wind. Mixed in-between my pampas bokay is a bunch of wildflowers. They remind me that I am a wildflower. Growing no matter what. Growing where i am routed. Growing where God planted me. The golden reflection of the sun, so ever bright, made me warm. I looked to my left and right where fields are divided by the wall. far in the distance i can see the farm house where husband is busy building the den for the chickens. i will head to him soon, just one more minute of wind and pampas. One more moment with Jesus.