I wore a weighted shawl blacker than night,
Colder than winter wind. But I thought
Cotton swaddled me, and supposed that I
Walked in light.
Then a hint of gray . . . a ray . . . This blur of bright
Light slowly spread. Weak eyes kindled, I watched darkness disappear.
His sun appeared above pacific waters, and summer days dawned—
Endless seascape, reflecting golden light.
Gift of savor and sight for insipid night—
O taste and see, then be, His salt and light.
Christine Laws writes and edits from her home in northern Maine—a quiet place where she can revel in God’s grace, His wonders, and words.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy