Sunday, February 17, 2008

Sixty-four Native Tongues, by David Darnell

The rain is washing over the coastal plain again. Immense clouds of salty water brought out of the Gulf of Mexico by Caribbean sea breezes and mixed with low pressure sliding down the east slope of the Rockies turns us into rainy day people many times a Winter.

People used to shun us because of this phenomenon and now they seem to flock here from all over the World to revel in it, sixty-four native tongues spoken at Lee High School, where our little sister went 25 years ago with her group of, similarly raised, middle American Houstonians, mainly natives.

That glacier with all of the crashing waves seems to be trying to break the pattern. How many millenias, since the World you so eloquently embraced earlier in these blessed entries, experienced an upheaval of its core and crust and veil of oxygen?

Are we all so complacent that we fail to follow the drama you have shared with us through Hubble's eye and be awed and humbled by the Majesty of His creation? You aren't complacent and satisfied, Brother, you seeker and scribe of truth and beauty and love. Dvd

1 comment:

MooPig said...

Shout it out; shout it out looouud!