How long do I stand here?

Waves roll in

Small stones hiss with gladness

A gull chortles his freedom

And the blue above delights.

You Lord establish the rhythms

The surface tension

The wind that braces

With current life and challenge.

How long?

And I barely get my feet wet

Hands in pockets

Eyes fastened upon briny foam

Advancing to its peak

Collapsing back and under.

Do I seem to you

As one of these waves?

Coming once in weather

You have pre-determined.

Moving, gaining

Cresting, lapsing


With another right behind.

Or am I ever lost?

Simply flowing elsewhere

As the larger Body

Has willed.



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Married and father of two. Living in Waterloo, Ontario. Workplace health and safety professional. Blogger. Poet. Nature hiker. History buff. Inspirational writer. Newsboy for Jesus.

3 thoughts on “Scintilla”

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