Monday, March 19, 2012


                                                 Early Morning at Camp Greystone

                                             the rain is spilling out over this tin roof
                                             and we are underneath blankets and
                                             wooden beams that stretch wide and low
                                             you walk across ancient floors to start that fire
                                             we've been waiting for
                                             and when I see you - 
                                             hound by your side as you crinkle paper, 
                                             I know that you don't keep anything from me.
                                             the flame rises with pockets of blue - 
                                             crackles and smooths out, 
                                             leaping to life with the echo of thunder.
                                             the light grows with the watercolor egg sky, 
                                             and we remember just how many secrets of God
                                             lay bare beyond this submarine window.

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"Pleasant words are [like] honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones." Proverbs 16:24