Read a Poem

When the net comes up empty
and the tide won't turn your way,
when the engine coughs at midnight
and the fog won't clear by day—

You pray.

Not for riches, not for glory,
not for calm or easy seas,
but for one more cast at morning,
for the strength to bend your knees.

Lord, I've lived along this water,
learned your lessons hard and slow.
Taught me patience in the waiting,
taught me grace in letting go.

So I pray.