Morning comes. Cool. Fresh.
Musing on the bench overlooking
A valley covered in fog,
The trees barely visible.
Sitting in the presence of my Lord,
Soaking up the fresh air,
Writing, reading, praying.
Waiting for an answer, for peace.
My perspective is obstructed
Just as the fog creates a vague
Outline of the trees before me.
I know there is a valley below;
Something larger at work
Than the dim shadows I see.
An intricate pattern
Designed by my Father.
One day the mist will lift,
And all shall be revealed.
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