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Even Oxen
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Your Baileys of Water
Your baileys of water rest on the wings of the airplane
Holding the sun's stream silently frozen in place
Below are the highways, woven with haste and the endless
They're lapping the rubber that rolls of it's tongue with the sweet taste
Of all the miles that are as empty as You knowing.
With burdens of moving, I'm thankful to spend it with You,
the gravel and asphalt, and the tires that are ripped askew.
God in three persons;
The Father who holds me within His eyes
The Spirit who claims me as His own
The Son to resemble a God who has loved me.
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