That’s Beautiful

That’s Beautiful

Crunching gravel told me visitors approached on the trail
I did not realize facing successive inlets would tell a tale
Paint covered the canvas, a scene roughed out yet visible
It was good enough, the gap really what was expressible

I heard a woman say “that’s beautiful,” barely whispering
A couple holding hands on their walk, smiles shimmering
My response was, I agree, the view from there is beautiful
Looking confused, she said, no, your painting is delightful

I did not understand, as I paint with mere childlike skills
My art just an outlet to articulate back what God instills
Thanking her, I said I lived for being outside in creation
A hint to her, as God’s name came alive in appreciation

Conversation wove into merged attempts at what we enjoy
Smiling, her last words penetrated deep; in you, is His joy
The moment stunning, could she had seen a greater extent
Perhaps a visual gift from God to let her see what it meant

I gaze at the painting now and then, as love’s accessibility
and see beyond my feeble attempt to reflect God’s beauty
I can sense the overwhelming holiness He freely gives us
So that His children might find each other in the glorious


My family hiked into a little beach at one of Maine’s famous countless nooks and crannies of bays and inlets.  The view from a rock formation a short distance from the beach was breathtaking. Providentially, I had carried in my painting supplies. Rather than take my normal surreal approach at painting, I attempted to actually replicate the scene.

After a while, I heard the sounds of crunching stones on the path above where I was situated. Before I knew it, I had company.  With such a stunning view, they could not help but stop and gather in the beauty.  I did not expect the long conversation to go where it did.  After they left, I came to appreciate how surreal the situation that developed was. God had no doubt planned the whole scenario, planting deeply in my subconscious the idea that I should express the grandeur of creation as the subject matter for this book of poetry.

For further reflection: Psalm 24

inlets small