The Inlet

I’m taking my Dad and nephew to the beach this weekend and this will be a place we go to eat and look and walk.  I hope to return with even more wonderful pictures of where God’s land meets His sea.

The inlet opens its mouth

To let the sea inside.

It invites abundance

As the tide rolls in.

The water grasses wave

To fish on parade.

The pelicans glide low

Watching the water.

Oysters and clams

Disguised by mud

Are tasty morsels

For chirping gulls.

Other shells long discarded

Move freely in the current

Like an empty bag

In a gentle breeze.

From my perch on the dock

I see peacocks long legs

Beneath heavy plumes

Walk about Goat Island.

No goats in winter.

They spend the season

In a warm stable

And wait for Spring freedom.

I love the rainy, winter inlet

And come for solitude,

And to become part of Creation.

Restoration comes as God speaks again.

(Photos and poem from an afternoon on Marsh Walk at Murrell’s Inlet in winter, early 2011.  Goat Island is across from Bubba Love’s place.)

(c) Robin Lawrimore, November 2011