Out there, on the rim
Where the ocean falls away
sits God, feet dangling
Of a late afternoon, with the sun and its warming light just right, the Pacific Ocean spreads out before me like a gigantic softly-rippled aqua-mirror, reaching all the way to the rim of the world, and there, among the haze and low whitish clouds (that look like a distant, soft mountain range beyond which lies the land of magic, or Heaven, or…), out there at the very edge, there (I can easily picture) sits a very content God, feet dangling over the rim—very pleased with Himself and Things in general.
Cooling off, I gather, for the afternoon feels unusually warm to me, and He is that much (8 miles or so from where I’m sitting) closer to the sun.
Again, I pinch myself to make sure I’m awake: I live here, this amazing scene is my back yard.