His feet move powerfully marking footprints in the sand where the shore glides up to the imprint. Its water dances softly into the sea leaving the marking. The holy marking. The sacred marking. Jesus’ feet.
An open canvas gleams in white awaiting colors of the rainbow. It beckons You to show it how to fly. How to speak. How to dream with imagery. How to shine most passionately. When you paint eternity into the hearts who crave the King.
Tears flowered out like rose petals when He felt the brushing silk on his lips. The aromatic scent of her incense. The soft and supple skin of her thumbprint etched in his hand.
In the springtime pollen fills my grocery cart with Kleenex. I sneeze every season as I go outside. Still I love the spring. I can’t stay out of the…