Walk the rails under a high blue sky. Find the sag in the leaning fence, and step--carefully--over rusted wire. Follow a peninsula of blond grasses through a lake of loam, and come, at last, to the timber's edge where gray branches trace the sky and rose hips curl near purple canes.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Prayer
Beloved Lord,
My life is not worth living for me, but it is worth living for You.
Help, Lord, for there is no way I can live Your life in me.
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