Steps, in robes meander

to sounds

tender,

of Nature’s

banter

 

Sickens, the heart

Heavenly,

of trials

still,

on earth,

readily:

striking

and dealing heavily

to even

Fawns,

crying

Dreadfully.

 

“Listen, what’s this sound

of limping, wailing, lost and found?

Brothers, let me a simple moment

to travel far, and with mercy foment

what seems just a hug, and a kiss

for what our Lord gave us, in this:

A deer child, a cherished Fawn

With nothing else, but a Pasture’s lawn,

Shelter, now he has not,

nor a Tree to trust, and flaunt!

Just give me, what so kind

shall a man’s heart, so eagerly find,

When his life of sin, behind

resembles Storms, in ruthless grinds!”

 

And that was how ran the Shepherd,

to gain all in life that’s better:

when a man no longer considers

anything other than all that glitters

in the Stars of a cosmos all

that, though shines, remains in the Fall

Still, yet, the Diamond so glistens

to remind of Who, in 

Realms 

Unknowable, 

Listens.

 

Still, though He hears,

Remain nonetheless, man’s fears,

For shaking, limbs so clear

Cannot abandon the flesh, so mere

 

For simple, even men

whose minds soar over ten,

remain subject, as they fend

for any certainty, that never rends

what fabric tender, the heart contends

with Storms aloud, what the world commends:

 

Eyes that not see, and ears that not hear

even desperate, small yells, of sweet little Fawns so dear,

but there are souls, rare they are,

that see Truth, near and far:

the same One, who bled so hard

upon a like bark, the Storm tore apart!

 

But power, have not Storms at present,

In a Pasture wide, of mountains crescent:

tall hills, with sheep and pheasant,

and all manner of Life so pleasant

 

the New Jerusalem so prefigured,

in the hearts of men, not configured

to the wind through which Storms linger,

 

and ravage the Songs,

 

of Eden’s

 

Singers.

_________________

 

R.V. Smith: “The First Pastoral Laud”, 05-10-25

 

© 2025 by Ryan Vincent Smith