Burning Bush

I saw a bush in the distance,

Burning, but not consumed.

How can this be?

Impossible,

A sight beyond belief.

Its leaves were green and supple,

Not seared, or edged with black.

Though smoke arose, 

No ashes fell,

No branches full afire.

So I drew near with wary eye

and curiosity,

To get a better vantage of

This strange oddity.

It filled me with such wonder,

Some fear of danger too.

But at its center I could sense

God’s presence,

Hear His voice.

And now I knew

All I could do

Was worship and obey.

Lord, let me be a burning bush

To others on the way.

Let the Holy Spirit be

The flame that’s plain to see.

Burning,

But not consumed,

A puzzle in this world,

A cause of awe and wonder

At what you can do through me.

Today's prompt:  write a poem about something spooky.  I spent the morning at the Chattanooga House of Prayer and one of the exercises had me studying a stained glass picture of the burning bush.  It occurred to me that if I actually saw a burning bush that would be pretty spooky.