Repentance: A Sonnet by L. M. Montes

In valleys green so deep and vast bestow,
petals bright with candied flowers growing,
steepled churches point to eagles soaring,
praying God’s children back to him return.
The road below twists its turning clutches,
steering ’round in circles thus repeating.
Along cliffside mountains choices teeter,
souls play chicken, thus forever tempting,
playing with life’s air currents with no thought.
Thorns and thistles stretch their needles skyward,
expecting wayward children so to catch,
and peace that stands forever elusive.
But then amazing grace for them is sent,
when wayward children pray and then repent.