Out of the Gray

Lake slips into a mist of gray
Horizon broken by trees stripped by Fall, bracing for winter.
Seasons change, storms pass.

A metaphor for life? 
Fifty shades of gray, stripped by storms bracing for loss.
Where is the hope? 

A Blue Herron floats over the water. 
The Spirit floats over the chaos of life.
Flashes of color break through the mist.
Seasons change, storms pass.
God--not lost in the gray.
Hope.

Someone is at the Door.

Someone asked me this week, "Do you want a wall on our Southern border?" 

What I want is a welcome mat at the front door that says "we welcome those who want to work with us to make this a great Nation with a large heart and unlimited opportunity" AND secure borders that won't permit people to commit a "home invasion" via the back door; if that takes a wall, more aggressive policing and/or police presence, detention/hearing centers located at the border to process undocumented people back to their nation of origin in a humane, effective and efficient way; drones, helper dogs, armored vehicles--any and all this and any other civilized measure that might be employed by a government that is determined to control egress into this Nation and protect our Citizens, Commerce and Resources--THAT, is what I want. 

History does not equivocate: failure to control one's borders leads to a failed state. Period.

Live it well...bN tGit