Sunday, June 8, 2008

I spent some time at Pensacola Beach a few days ago. It's amazing to me how the same God who designed oceans that can tsunami entire nations into n o t h i n g engineered brilliant, beautiful little shells. I love that.


The rip tides are hidden, erratic pulls
That drag while you're kicking and yank 'til you're full
of plankton and brine, watery salt.
Lungs that can't take it fill and then halt.

The Maker is violent, dangerous, loud;
He lifts up the rulers and cuts down the proud.
Like soldiers, the tides march in and retreat
In time with His magnetic metronome beat.

The shore sand is soft, yielding, unmeasured--
A hiding place both for lost junk and treasures.
It forms hills and valleys at the whim of the wind,
settled only 'til the sea claims it again.

The Lord is a gentle, strategic unknown
Who buries great gifts in the sands of His own.
Like time, the breeze stirs up and reveals
The depths of a love that knows, values, and heals.


Honey, it's HOT! ;) Anyone for a sweaty game of frisbee?

near frozen juices. iced grande vanilla lattes. AC.


1 comment:

  1. I think your poem is very fantastic. I like that muy mucho. That's all. Glad we talked. bye.


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