a poem by Chris
The way the note squeezes from my hands
Pulling tension, sliding down the strings.
Tactile feel of the rosewood fingerboard
And every tone in its place.
The entrusting of a child’s development.
The way my son’s smile seems to take up his whole face.
His focus and concentration of new material learned
And every bone in his body is silly beyond reason.
The deep, rich blue of my wife’s eyes.
The sexy way her mind works.
Michelle’s carved out niche in a man’s workplace.
Her gentle words spoken to a rambunctious son.
The smell of the ocean at Point Loma
And the rhythmic lapping of water on the shore.
How the still, calm sound of my reel winds at Deerfield
And the purity of the season’s first snowfall.
Precious time spent getting to know Jesus.
Combing the Book for God’s promises.
Watching the changes in me
And feeling the joy of a Saviour who loves me.
These things become my exhilaration
These become my truth
These are like a cup that never runs dry
These I will cherish all of my life.