by Jo Taylor

You’ve spoken through donkeys,
burning bushes, wall writings,
and even blood. You have
whispered, you have shouted, 
you have called us by name. 
So today, Lord, speak, in whatever
medium you choose and, pray, 
O, God, do not let us miss the message. 
Speak through the yellow-beaked,
orange-breasted, not-so-shy robin, flitting
about our feet; in the scurrying, red-tailed 
fox squirrel, peeking from the forked limbs
of the live oak, as if to say, I am 
worth the camera; in the pink and white 
crepe myrtles, their papery, cinnamon-
colored, sometimes leprosy-looking, 
trunks gracing entrances to medical
buildings; and in the newly-flowering
redbuds, purpling with passion. Speak 
through the flutter of angel wings, 
the silence of stars, through the chaos
of sickness, through soft sinking sun. 
You who have made us, and not we,
ourselves, come and commune with 
your people. We confess we know not 
why you will and how you will, but
that you will.

Jo Taylor is a retired, 35-year English teacher from Georgia.  Her favorite genre to teach high school students was poetry, and today she dedicates more time to writing it, her major themes focused on family, place, and faith. She says she writes to give testimony to the past and to her heritage. In 2021 she published her first collection of poems, Strange Fire.  She enjoys walking in early morning, playing with her two grandsons, and collecting and reading cookbooks.