foggy

Friday Morning (February 16th)

photos by: Denis King (my great uncle) 

photos by: Denis King (my great uncle) 

photos by: Denis King (my great uncle) 

foggy

on many a foggy morning

my anxious hopes reside

hues of pink, orange, and purple,

low sitting clouds won’t hide

of all uncertain hours ahead

before me beams a certainty

promise to be steadfastly led

be still my soul, looking to Thee

though cedar and oak are thickly veiled

the daybreak sparks all gazes up

low visibility, I am held

Taste of San Angelo in my coffee cup

morning prayers upon my dusty dash

cling like caliche on the car

hopeful, anxious, stubborn, alive,

foggy beginnings, we’ve come so far

greenhouse

 

Stubborn, picking ourselves up by our bootstraps, and taking the cedar bushes with the Oak, I guess you could say.

 

to coax me in to such a trap

no, I won’t go

who’ll take me back?

a house of glass, with no four seasons

I sit outside, with all my reasons

frost nipping leaves

turing them to brown

no fortress from the cold I’ve found

temperature control’s just not my style

pride will keep me warm a while

braving all the winter’s frost

though bare I seem, not all is lost

stubborn, but hardy, they all grow back

..

..

Cannas survive rugged terrain,

so will I, until spring remain