How well I remember standing there on the
Sidewalk in Santa Fe in front of a jewelry store
where you'd just picked up your rings.
My wife of twenty-seven years, me, the two of you.
The two of you trying your best not to melt into the
pavement under the weight of emotions;
The two of us with eyes watering from the
Holy smoke from some nearby burning bush,
wondering if we should take off our shoes.
We went to a Lyle Lovett concert that night,
And as a concluding encore he sang that old
Gospel hymn, with its refrain,
while on others thou art calling,
do not pass me by . . .*
And, sure enough, a cool breeze broke the heat and
Made us shiver. Such delight. Such pure delight,
nestled within the sun-soaked faces
And scuffed boots of year after multiplied year
Of faithfully-attentive gaze and lovesome
I stumble into grace just
Here's hoping the rains find your pastures.
©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Written to commemorate a decade of covenant ties (unrecognized by state authorities) with the purchase of rings. *Line from “Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior,” Fanny Crosby.