This old house is decaying, crooked,
but it overlooks the bottom of the bay,
where the tides come and go,
brown mud, then water, silvery blue.
The town has a hardware store,
a grocery store, and a bakery:
my trinity of human existence.
There's a jazz station on the radio for potluck,
and Pandora plays all I want to hear.
This is getting scary,
all my little dreams...
And while I am filled with gratitude and fear
I am already moving away
(though not yet in such a rush - oh that pecan sticky)
and I have to remind myself
that God, in his secret economy,
brings rain and sun
to the just and unjust, the good and the evil.
But leaves it to me to answer the question:
which one am I?
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