We drove past the church on the way to the beach 

Along that quiet back road 

And far off I heard some tires screech 

There was a cross out front, immersed in bright flowers 

The beaming sun seemed to highlight it, a few days after Easter 

I thought about the Gospels, of the first followers and modern day cowards  

As well as all those in between 

The cross has a way of uniting centuries 

Some days the only thing for which I’m eager is the beach 

Splendid on a cool windy day in April 

For hungover, cold-averse spring breakers I’m grateful 

The picture of the cross never goes away 

But to see it dressed in color is such irony 

Me and my pup got to the beach, finally 

Just to be cut off at the entrance by a funeral procession 

I couldn’t help but wonder why the dead hold up the living 

I know, I know. That’s my confession 

Finally I got to my parking spot 

I watched the funeral-goers plod over the dunes 

Strangely enough, they played a jaunty tune 

I watched as they actually pulled the casket out of the hearse

It was covered in striking velvety colors 

Flower petals on wood – again 

One woman opened her purse 

She pulled out a cross 

The others in the party held bouquets 

It looked strangely like a wedding on the beach, what can I say?

I was shocked when they opened the casket 

There was nothing but flowers inside 

They pushed that casket out into the bay 

And the priest lady said, “Friends, we are the bride”

As I walked along the shore 

The clouds looked like crosses 

And the pink peonies, red roses, purple tulips, and white hydrangeas floated my way 

Right up beside my Golden retriever

I heard the priest lady from way down the shoreline say,

“From His love, you can never run away”

And you know what, readers, I am still a believer ~