He sits in his truck

Waiting for the next shipment.

He sits on the back deck

On the back paddock with the dogs.

The wind blows

South Carolinian.

The birds delight at the feeder

And AG meditates.


Stopping everything to pull

A thought out of the soup.

Who does that these days?

Ones who have been stunned

By the still small Voice

Brought to clarity

With a lump in the throat

Hungering that the Master

Do it again

“Please do it again.

I will be obedient with what You release.”

Perhaps this fellow

With the new incision

Up the chest

And the unprecedented tenderness

Has even bigger ears now

For what the wind blows.

Write, my Man!

Doug Blair, Waterloo, Ontario


4 thoughts on “Anthony

  1. What’s a “paddock?”
    Don’t make me have to look it up!
    If it’s anything like atop a dung pile with the dogs, there shall be words flung amongst other things!

  2. Sounds like this guy is only good for gathering splinters.

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