Father taught about keys and rests
About scales and every note
When my younger mind was wishing
To be out fishing in the boat
But by grace notes and by quarters
And good old three-four time
Things slowly began to make sense
Like a poem starts to rhyme
And His melody stayed with me
Though sometimes I couldn’t hear
Over my life’s crescendos
And sonatas filled with tears
But now I am just grateful
As my voice begins to wane
That His notes can go on singing
Through both sunny days and rain
And I see my Father’s presence
In the notes between the lines
And I thank Him for the part I play
In His symphony divine!
His Symphony Divine
by Peter Caligiuri
Copyright © 2016
All rights reserved
This poem, which I wrote about eight years ago, will appear soon in the 2024 Spring edition of Breakthrough Intercessor
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