The wind moves mysteriously like the Spirit holding all together at the table of love.
They met in spring and were married in June. It is now autumn when leaves turn. The children and the grandchildren run their merry ways.
Right now for one of them the sun is setting. Years from now in splashing golden light it will set for the other.
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Denise offers the prompt word “table” for this week’s Six Sentence Stories.
John 3:8 KJV – 8 The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.
Poetry, Short Prose and Walking 
That was beautiful, Frank!
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A compelling first line, Frank, that colors all that follows it. You make the inevitable blessed.
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