Blessed Poem by D.A. Woods

On my descent down into the valley,
through the fields of wheat and barley,
the sun is punishing and glistens this shore,
the sound waves crash on the rocks with a mighty roar.

I stopped and looked up at the clear blue sky,
August sure was hotter than the month of July,
I walked on carried my shirt in my hand,
and continued my stroll along this land.

I met a stranger who looked at me and smiled,
he saw a free man living without exile,
I nodded politely and gave him a grin,
as today was the day that the Lord made me begin.