Sitting at the end of a lakeside dock,
with solid cedar boards below my chair
but ever-flowing water underneath,
I saw a cumulus cloud towering
like a holy city in the summer sky.
I thought of Psalm 19, the one beginning
“The heavens declare the glory of God.”
I phoned it up and read it twice, out loud,
offering my voice to the passing breeze
and to a startled flotilla of ducks.
We’re gifted in abundance. One is this:
perception of likeness—this is like that.
Perhaps that’s how we hold in memory
God’s promises, once drifting clouds change shape,
and those who shared those promises are gone.
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
