First Church of Ned's Point

the ocean is angry
on this last Sunday morning of 2009,
with two-foot seas
kissing the fog, roughly,
as the tide charges the shore,
heading straight for me,
the lone scribbler,
once again pining for You;
my love cannot plumb
these surly waters,
it can only seek refuge
in the pavilion here
at the First Church of Ned's Point,
which You christened
on a sunny, more hospitable day
last August,
when Your eyes lit my way,
and Your laughter was my soundtrack;
this stormy day does nothing
to erase the mind's images,
caught and kept,
wrestling and surging,
floating out of my eyes,
surrounding me.

December 27, 2009, for the Wifey. Only four days!

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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