Tuesday, July 19, 2011

One good thing about my job:

I get LOTS of thinking time.

I'm usually plugged in to my cheap, beloved little scratched-up Coby mp3 player while I'm endlessly pulling up weeds and shoots of crabgrass, but every so often I turn it off--probably because someone calls me about something--and once I'm done, I just don't feel like turning it back on again.  It's easy to forget how peaceful it is to sit in slightly-wet grass, run your fingers through the dirt, and just...breathe.  We live in such a beautiful world, and at times like these I never feel the Spirit more than when all my distractions are gone.

a beachcomber's lullaby

we were children once
in love with sand, spray, and each other’s eyes
we breathed in the colors of our secret bay
running through the waves, our footprints unable to catch up to us

the sea stars shone in a bottomless sky
seagulls worshiped a setting sun
we washed the sand off our feet and fell asleep in our pearly oyster beds
in the distance, a guitar sang a lullaby to the boardwalk

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