Standing at the surf line
in the pale twilight.
Baubles from the sea wash up
around our feet,
foam-cleansed, sanded.

His hair — salt strands whipping
in the ocean breeze.
My hair snaps electric,
teasing against my neck.
Skin-clad, kissed gently by
liminal lights.
I hear the ocean’s roar
like static bliss.

He leans down, scooping up
treasure — small gifts from the waters.
I open my mouth for Him,
and He feeds me pearls.

I learn that wisdom
Is Divinely gifted.
Alignment with Him draws me
into receiving — pearls I learn
to guard and share with care.

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