Well, Lucas, as I sat this morning down,
on lu, cas I would have turds buried well,
you walked into my mind, but had a frown,
or maybe some disquiet. I couldn't tell.
I thought to ring you, feel I want to wring
the water from the dish cloth - that's full wet.
But I am not the master. That's the thing.
If he will use wet dishcloths, then I bet
he's slightly "crazy" from love for the cloth,
or might the glasses need to air-dry too?
And twenty other options to just sloth,
but love is in the mix, in me, in you.
I'd love to chat more mate. But haven't got
a "reason" I can think of so to do.
Except that this is sabbath rest with God
to talk with friends, to dream, to think, to chew
the cud of truth, reality, and stuff
that's come from love's own creativity.
I'm thinking 'bout the gospel, which is tough.
I want to be teamed up with more than me.
Delighted by the scriptures. He's enough!
The one they speak of, and the one who sees
what happens on the lu, or bike, or rough
times in our heads, & hearts, or with weak knees.
I know you're prob'ly busy when I'll call,
so leave the phone, but whisper up a prayer
connecting us together in those small
and unseen things, seen by the God who's there.
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