His lines in the sand,
Each one of a kind.
Without foot or hand,
His way’s serpentine.
Side ways ever long,
His wind’s an unwind.
His song’s a sarong
That helps keep men blind.
His lines
"And the daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in a vineyard, as a lodge in a garden of cucumbers, as a besieged city." – Isaiah 1:8
Cucumber Lodge 