Wind Through the Pine Needles

My face feels like new sandpaper

and I’m reminded that I’m no longer a child,

and haven’t been for some time now.

The fire crackles about ten yards away

and I’m reminded that all I’ve eaten today

has been some scrambled eggs and Snickers,

and I’m hungry.

I look up at the sky and down at the water

and I’m reminded of why blue is my favorite color.

I feel the wind blow through the pine needles

and I’m reminded of Franz Wright

(It is written, “adore the wind”)

and of God.

I see Jason frying his Northern pike

with the other men gathered around him

and I’m reminded of Jesus cooking for his disciples.

Grandpa sits down with a sigh

on the island named in his honor

and I’m reminded that I am young,

a boy among men who isn’t a boy or a man.

Memories begin, involuntarily:

Jordan and I running in my front yard

playing Dragonball Z,

and I’m reminded of my lost life.

My iPod is turned off inside my backpack

and I hear the water slapping the rocks,

and the gulls yelling at each other,

and the wind blowing through the pine needles,

and I’m reminded of the first music.

My throat swells as I think

about money and friends

seminary and sin

work and college

and I’m reminded of a truth –

“Peace, be still and know that I am God.”