Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
Many corners of the interwebs are echoing Jesus-followers to be more intentional about pauses in our busy days and find a Sabbath rest. In this season of my life it is more and more difficult to engage in such a practice. However, I woke up the other morning and heard, “find Me in the In-Between”,…
The thermometer affirms our arrival at Autumn, the droplets on the deck declare in dew that the air is too cold for the water, changing it to liquid on the glassy, warm surface. I wonder, does the Living Water perform the same miracle when it touches my heart? do change….
F a l l in g in love…
Writing comes from listening, so I’ve taken quiet steps outside away from the loud to hear better. Eyes open this time to see AND hear–this– the delicate drops of fuchsia, ballerinas fluttering like so many upside-down firecrackers, fragile, full of beauty dropping feathery tendrils to the silent air.
I just saw three chickadees stun themselves, Mama Bird watching from the patio post, hopeful their wings and their wisdom would coincide with the air. They collided instead with the window I see through now, fateful glass a barrier to their flight and freedom impeding the discovery of their birdy selves as creatures made for…
No one eats a slice of lemon meringue pie because they’re hungry. There’s no sustenance in golden brown gelatinous spun sugar. No energy to be gained by consuming a butter-laden yellow middle, no food group that would deem this crust of crumbs worthy of a bite. But I consume anyway, my eyes convincing me I…
We’ve been informed we are flying at 29,000 feet (approximately) above the face of the Earth, suspended (how? by speed, lift and whatnot) like a moving planet jettisoned in a line moving at the speed of sound (light?). Refreshments are served, secured with invisible payments traveling via plastic and magnets swiped by staff standing still…
Prayer at my desk over pasta reminds me I’ve been away from this place way too long. This familiar pathway back to this quiet corner with Him– like a trail worn through the woods towards home or a boat returning to anchor in the harbor. It’s this Presence I remember, the sweet rest of…
The noisy birds squawk and squeal, an out of sync chorus bent on harmony as discordant as a traffic jam. In between the garbled avian speech I hear a finch and a robin announce, “It’s morning!” In my very vague 4:30 a.m. brain I succumb to the sounds of Creation’s alarm clock and I am…
Ivy’s on the corner with her papers and her change. I stop, she chats and I cheer her on As she shares this chapter of her life Titled “October through February,” Bringing her to this sunny corner in May. The lines on her face tell a story Like the layers of life in a beautiful,…