filling my cup under a waterfall
A patch of meadow upland Reached by a mile of road, Soothed by the voice of waters, With birds and flowers bestowed. Hither I come for strength Which well it can supply, For Love draws might from terrene force And…
I’m thinking with David tonight … in the words of Peterson … “in my insignificant, sheep-keeping obscurity, I am chosen.” For he chose us in him before the creation of the world. Oh, it’s mysterious lamplit evenings, here in the galaxy, one after the other. It’s one of those nights when I wander from window…