Abba Father:

The sea is smooth out beyond the shore

It appears to be black glass beneath moonlight glare

The waves muted outside out the back door.

Four o’clock a.m. and I can sit outside

The air heavily scented with salt and sand

I want to think about Heaven and ocean rides.

But it’s hard to think about good things

When the world seems bent on evil

Somewhere though Angels still sing.

 

Don’t they?

                d.f.a.v. 1/16/15

—Amen