Morning in the wilderness

O where can I go from your spirit,
  or where can I flee from your face?
If I climb the heavens, you are there.
  If I lie in the grave, you are there.
If I take the wings of the dawn
  and dwell at the sea’s furthest end,
even there your hand would lead me,
  your right hand would hold me fast.

- Psalm 138

Out wandering around along the Mississippi River in the morning…

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