At times I seek, sometimes I search:
When prone in bed, or knelt in church;
I look for signs of God divine
When troubled thoughts darken my time.
At other times I miss these marks:
In times of joy, with mind calmed, fair:
And yet God speaks through light and larks
Resplendent in the hanging air.
As on this day of joy, of loss,
A window turns in to a cross.
Copyright Tom Tide 2017