Moments

To sit in quiet contemplation on
A mottled slope of granite slab and grass
That lies above a busy coastal port,
To speak, to listen, and at times to laugh,
To watch the falcons and the greedy gulls
That dip and whirl and spin with every breeze,
And bobbing sails and prows of distant boats
That slice the surface of the endless seas,

To smell the sweet salt tang of ocean air,
To sit in silence, or to softly talk,
While all around the crash of foaming waves
Beats loudly on the madly contoured rock,
To set aside the cares that haunt our days,
To let the moments turn to minutes, and
The minutes disappear in squandered hours
While timeless nature beats against the strand;

And, Oh! If moments such as these could come -
These precious gifts that God in grace does send -
If only these could come to us each day,
Or failing that, perhaps, to never end.

Copyright 2010 by Douglas Twitchell Note: We are a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for us to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.