She sings over the valley
Shaping cold hard rocks with her loud loveliness
White, blue, azur and grey
Her colors constantly changing
Reflecting the heaven sky
Causing reflection within and without
The river washes over my silence
Gold dust in the sand
My soles rest
We are the dust and the mist. Muddy waters forming clay pots and vessels of glory. The brokenness comes as we fall on our plans. God given shards and sharp edges, all the more temporary becoming eternal.
A few days spent in the south of France gave me an acute adoration for open space, the seaside, rivers, silence and the sparkle of the sunshine. Water winds her way through valleys into oceans and falls from the sky. We drink it, cry it and swim in it. It grows things, fills things and empties out.