Last week, I sat on our back patio at sunrise, sitting in the midst of June gloom. As Californians, June gloom means “the fog rolled in off the coast.” But more, I was struck by the term, “gloom.” I then wrote this poem…
The fog rolls in off the coast, our Pacific blue,
The sun turns “off,” hiding, cowering, out of view.
The cool summer breeze, fresh mists, delightful to me,
My bible, some coffee, sitting under a tree.
The flowers around me, dancing in their blooms,
A hummingbird sipping water, reddish-green plumes.
Sitting in everyday wonder, God’s gifts that woo,
Beauty awakens longing, deepens hunger for You.
In the light fog, another picture from June gloom,
Life without light looms, godless, destiny of doom.
“But don’t all go to heaven?” our pride does presume.
“Life is not fair, and neither is God,” some hearts fume.
I ponder who I once was, sitting in June gloom,
How my life has changed; started with an empty tomb.
One day, ever coming soon, no more life with gloom,
I’ll enjoy the Son, singing, in heaven’s sunroom.