words from wick

From vacation, we returned to vacation
On the drive, our side quests abound
Beginning with coffee near Slemish
Where Patrick, enslaved, his faith found

A child of a minister’s family
He’d scorned the faith they proclaimed
Yet here on the hills of volcano
The Good Shepherd was calling his name

Next Belfast, to St George’s Market
So busy and filled from the start
We pondered, perused and wandered
And talked with artists of their art

Then to the corner of Lewis
To see Narnia in the flesh
Each statue a life-sized reminder
Imagination offers refresh

Seeing his church and the rectory
His home they call “Little Lea”
Here the seeds of harvest were planted
In the soil of wartimes to be

Off to the shores of Titanic
Where Nomadic still rests, work completed
I wonder the thoughts and the prayers
Of those who were on this ship seated

This life, our Nomadic journey
So short, as to what may next come
Ensured of eternity after
(Yet its mystery has already begun.)

Returned to our safe Howth harbor
We unpacked at Oring domicile
Contented with all our adventures
Each headed to bed with a smile