FM 1431 Balcones Canyonlands
I thought I had stepped into Psalm 23 when sunlight burned behind the ridge, like a molten coin with scattered light. A stillness hovered over the green pastures. We climbed a hill on a path that snaked up to a meadow of cacti and sprouting white flowers. Doves scattered, beating their wings, disturbed by lost sheep.
The light fought off the shadows of dusk, the vista a table prepared for me in the presence of all my uncertainties. We scrambled down the other side of the hill, the juniper trees green torches blocking our view. We headed back to the valley, speechless, at the purple and orange haze settling like dust over the hills. The afterglow anointed our heads. We hiked down and stopped by the still waters, calmed by the clear pools, cups that runneth over. We found our way back. Surely goodness and mercy will follow us all of our days.—-