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.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Whatever is lovely . . .
I am in a mood that struggles for words and finds solace through images and music. In this post I remember the beauty with which God has graced my life. May I recognize in it reflections of His deeper goodness.
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