The Search

The Search

The hills roll and tumble down

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To Wadi Kelt.

Azure skies: swallows soar and dip

In wild formation.

It's silent now, but when rain comes

The roar of water sculpts the canyon face

To juts and angles.

Scrub clings there, prickly beard,

Food for goats.

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I make my way along the narrow trail,

The only sound the crunch of steps.

God, My shepherd: meet me here,

My wilderness within.

Teach me, guide, protect.

I will wait and listen.    

© Beryl Carpenter June 2, 2016


© Beryl Carpenter 2013 - 2018