With Apologies to Laura Numeroff**
And the kind, inquisitive clerk inquires, ‘does she journal?’
(exclamation point)
Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
And the kind, inquisitive clerk inquires, ‘does she journal?’
(exclamation point)
Son, ferried within water, the womb of his mother. She, comforted on the back of a donkey, led at the hand by a hopeful man, father, to the House of Bread.Seer, sounding words that seared the hearts of those who…
Bread and fish made the shopping list– easily secured at the corner grocery store, exchanged for coins in my pocketbook. But what of the bread and fish the Saviour has~~ a small amount, yet multiplied miracles at his hand, sending the food away to the multitudes? No coins exchanged, no energy consumed in the getting,…
Feeling the rain come cave-cool air, white and empty but for the breeze. Still water rushing the trees, sleepy birds sitting at rest call out the change while tone on tone chimes echo from far below. The drops fall – spare, invisible, too few. My dry, gray lawn is thirsty and longs for a drenching, healing…
(after Gerard Manley Hopkins) Narrows Bridge, WA, photo by the author Glory be to God for freeway things For vehicles chrome-colored as Airstream and kin For billboards and tires that erstwhile sing Lemony busses, soldiering vans with commuters in. Praise Him all wheels and pavement, …
What can you hear in a winter sky? Trees sleeping, sap coursing slowly stopped by these northern climes and their accompanying chill. The sound of sunlight, settled like a theater’s best ending, shadowplay kept…
There was no faithline, no family promises passed on through prayer. Only a bloodline from Creation’s start, scarlet thread bound and wound together, a cord the color of life, made by a Weaver who dyed it red with blood. Woven with the loom of love, a lifeline coming my way~ a cord in the window~…