Wednesday, November 14, 2007

rust and tide

rust and tide

While rust and tide invade and salty mist encamps,
I may decay, or age, upon their onslaught.
I may display some tremorous shiver, at their grip
as their fingered touch seeks bone and sinew
beneath wool and cotton unequal to their task.
This chill assault may batter my battlements
making patterns on my walls with its eroding whispers,
may send me beneath my collar seeking shelter.
But my heart is safe, my soul is free,
as we pound this beach just You and me.

4 comments:

Cami said...

I love this! Amen! : )

Tanya said...

I love the mind of a poet. Or should I say "envy" ... All of your pieces amaze me.

Keith said...

Believe me that 'mind' is not a tidy place for habitation !

Cami said...

I just found these other comments--I say another "Amen to Tanya's comment, and to yours: neither is the mind of an intercessor! That's why your poetry ministers so well to my spirit. I praise God for the insight and the grace He's given you to write these marvelous lines.