Retreat Poem

One of my last days of retreat I woke up early to a foggy morning. I went out to the ocean which I could see but could not hear. Then, through the foggy mist I saw that even in that weather, there were men standing out on the rocks fishing. This poem came to me and captures the movement of God in my life those days and always.

God is there

in the glimmering of the morning sun

dancing on the water.

You can catch a glimpse

as the monarch soars and flutters

out and beyond

daring your eye to follow.

God is in the celebrations,

the doing of good work

and works --

after all, God said it was good.

And so we are.

But at the stormy times

in the fog, mist and darkness that will come

it is tempting to forget.

Yet.

On that foggy morning when eyes see nothing

but blinding white

you can hear the waves -- still there;

and the singing of the birds telling the good news

to those with ears to hear.

Like the fishermen

standing on the rocks in the blinding mist

seeking with the eyes of faith.