• Weather Change {a #poem}

    birds top right and center….from our deck   jlc   The chickadees chatter and chirrup “a cheep, cheep chick-a-dee-dee!” bullying for position on the fence post. There’s an argument about breakfast and who goes first and “hey, no cuts!” Doesn’t matter there’s an over-spilling feeder full of seeds– all the birds are hungry. It’s a change-of-weather morning…

  • Garden & Grace

    Do you ever feel stingy? I do. Well, I did.  Well, I actually noticed that I was feeling that way and thought it out loud. I thought about it as I clomp, clomp, clomped across the newly-sprinklered grass in my rubber boots out to my garden the other morning. I was inwardly exclaiming, amazed at…

  • Opportunity

    The Scent of Water** and the ticking of clocks is keeping me awake. the fragrance drawing me to the well of the Word, the Giver offering refreshment for my soul. The time keepers clicking through the dark marking the minutes– telling me twice, “take of each one” “make of each one” the most that you…

  • Watershed

    Rain has not fallen on these parched hills for months– bowl-shaped reservoirs speak of want and emptiness, shrunken camellias stunted in place mark the space formerly known as a garden. The hillsides are brown, a paper bag folded flat. Trees hold leaves, but distressed they are– hanging on, sending roots deep seeking moisture to live….

  • Crazy Peace

    I’m in my son’s backyard with 3 of the Littles….2 ½, 4 ½ and 6.  We are trying to beat the heat—-in a wading pool the size of well, you know, a wading pool.  Twelve inches of water have been splashed down to eight, there is bubble wand residue floating in and among the grassy…

  • The Scarlet Cord

    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~…

  • Whether System {a #poem}

    Texas Sky April 2011     Thunderclouds are roiling on the horizon, stacking up East-wise, threatening to move in– move in and dump. But they’re whiter than white can be and only so much vapor. I imagine their rumbling high over distant mountains, molecules leaving mess and mayhem, headed this way. But there’s no running for…