06/02/2026
June in Tillamook
June arrives softly,
on a warm Tillamook breeze
that carries the salt of the bay
and the hum of a small town waking.
The sun rests kindly on my skin,
a quiet benediction,
while the cows call across the fields
like they’re greeting the morning choir.
Birds trade songs from fence posts,
and the eagle sits high on the topmost branch,
surveying his kingdom
with the patience of an old, wise usher.
Neighbors mow their yards in steady rhythm,
cats cross the street with unhurried confidence,
and kids on bikes loop the block again—
fifth time’s the charm for summer joy.
Bees bounce off the roses,
busy with their holy work,
and somewhere behind a fence
a child’s laughter rises
as chickens squawk their egg‑day announcements.
And in all this simple, living music,
June reminds me:
God is here—
in the warmth,
in the breeze,
in the ordinary holiness
of a small town held in His care
RED
