The cool clouds cluster ‘neath my touch,
	White snow upon the ice blue sky,
My fingers grasp at waves and clutch
	The silver salt spray from on high.
And while I grasp, he slowly walks,
	The people harken as he talks,
His words tell of miraculous things,
	Of God, and mercy, love he sings,
While I, the summer’s gentle breeze
	Ask questions of the shore, the seas:
Who is this man, I ask aloud.
	The only answer on his face.
But now too huge has grown the crowd,
	Till none can see him in his place,
And so he leaves erratic sands 
	And boards a boat upon the sea.
“Put out,” he says, his voice commands, 
	Not harsh, but strong and gently free.
They push the boat from shore away,
	So all can hear what he will say.
He waits for quietness to be heard,
	His eyes enkindled, his voice is strong.
The crowd is silent, not a word,	
	For each thirsts for his truth, they long
 To catch his message, long to pray,
	The lesson he is soon to say.
Loud from the sea unto the grass
	This parable to them does pass:

                                       1975

	There was a man who went out to sow.
	As he scattered the seed in the field,
	Some of it fell alongside the path,
	So that later, the birds came and ate it up.
	And others fell upon rocky land,
	Where the soil was shallow.
	These sprang up at once,
	Because they had not sunk deep in the ground.
	but as soon as the sun rose, they were parched;
	They had taken no root,
	And so they withered away.
	And some fell among the briers,
	So that the briers grew up and choked them.
	But some seed fell upon good soil,
	And these grew and bore grain:
	Some a hundredfold, some sixtyfold, some thirtyfold.
	Therefore listen, you that have ears to hear with.
						Mark 4:3-9