Broom and bramble compete to obscure the way, but twin firs mark it still…
The Lake gleams far below where sun has shot through clouds’ billowing defenses…
Young trees rise to conquer the once-cleared slope…
Boats and their houses lie safely snugged in quiet harbor lolling below…
While a gut-wrenchingly forlorn bray rends the air as if speaking for the whole of creation: “How long, Lord, how long?”
“For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now…Even so, come Lord Jesus.” (Rom.8:22; Rev.22:20)
–LS
“At twenty, you want to save the world. At forty, you want to be saved from it.”—Robert Bruce