I'm grateful. I'm grateful for a lot of things. One thing I'm especially grateful for are the little tidbits of goodness that the universe sends my way. Sometimes they're poems. Sometimes they're photographs. Sometimes they're letters written by others for others. When I stumble across them they become mini devotionals. They provide a tiny bit of quiet in this busy, chaotic and strangely electronic world.

I'm currently on a Mettle Mission (and yes I've been dragging you with me) - a time where I'm calling upon every once of positivity I can muster as I hunt for whatever is next in store for me. Someday (gah, hopefully some day soon) the Mission will be over and I'd like something to take it's place.

On Sundays I plan on sharing a tiny bit of quiet. Welcome.

This week I'm sharing a poem that a friend sent my way a few weeks ago.

Good Timber

The tree that never had to fight
For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out in the open plain
And always got its share of rain,
Never became a forest king
But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man who never had to toil
To gain and farm his patch of soil,
Who never had to win his share
Of sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man
But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow with ease:
The stronger wind, the stronger trees;
The further sky, the greater length;
The more the storm, the more the strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snow,
In trees and men good timbers grow.

Where thickest lies the forest growth,
We find the patriarchs of both.
And they hold counsel with the stars
Whose broken branches show the scars
Of many winds and much of strife.
This is the common law of life.

By Douglas Malloch