I love, well everybody loves Carl Sandburg's poem "Fog"
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
It reminds me of Life, sort of, or maybe opposite, eh. Not silently, Life generally comes shrieking to get it's first breath, stays a while, and then moves on to whatever God has in mind for us after this. Which we know by faith alone. I don't know.
He died a week short of his 66th birthday, and I’d known him all that time, our families
members and dear friends together, of our little Body of Christ at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church since 1950. And friends again years later as we served and sang together at Grace Church, Panama City Beach.
John Benton, Jr. May his soul and the souls of all faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Thomas Carroll Weller, Jr