Poetry

 Where Will You Be?

As the water through the pebbles flow,

Each crack and crevice, the moistures grow,

The waves crash heavily to shore,

Sometimes they sneak; sometimes they roar.

The gulls fight mightily against the wind,

They turn and glide; turn to fight again.

The pelicans always in two, four or more;

They guard the coast as near the water they soar.

The water is green, both dark, light, fluorescent;

Always moving, filling and effervescent.

The rivers, they flow far out to sea,

Coming from mountains, rains return them to be,

Part of the plan the great Creator designed,

Man puts down. . . . always maligned.

But sit here and watch on this beautiful coast.

Sit here and listen, then let’s hear you boast.

Without God, our maker, we would indeed be,

A bird or rock or creature in the sea.

Even they are smart and will shout praises, you’ll see,

When that day comes . . . . . . . . Just where will you be?