by Jody Lee Collins | Nov 2, 2016 | Poetry
Autumn morning, my eyes are trained through windows to the shadow show on tree trunks, crayon box of colors falling through space from newly-revealed branches. Creator comes to mind, how He carries us, colors us, covers us with His power, tree-like arms our strength,...
by Jody Lee Collins | May 27, 2016 | Poetry
Sir spider suspended, still but for the invisible jarring of his aerial abode. Does it frighten him to be held by strength he cannot see, to scuttle across the sky, limb to leaf knowing the opposite anchored end could detach in a blink? Still he spins in space,...
by Jody Lee Collins | Jan 18, 2016 | Poetry
I never dreamed one day I’d be parsing a picture book explaining to five year olds that yes, a black man was shot by someone who hated him because of the color of his skin, and before he died he had a Dream for children just like them. After the story (required),...
by Jody Lee Collins | Jan 7, 2016 | Poetry
“Stretch” must be a biblical word, regardless of one’s age (an extension, a straining) like a two-year-old reaching on tiptoes towards her Father, not unlike the discomfort of unfolding old bones and well-used knees, joints so stiff they’ve...
by Jody Lee Collins | Jan 3, 2016 | Poetry
by Jody Lee Collins | Dec 24, 2015 | Poetry
Thank you, Jesus, you came toThe average everyday of us,Chose dwelling in limited space, Smiling your vast smile at ourSmallness as we reach for our evening beersDown at the local,Baring our souls as we join heart and soulWith our friends.You sit back and rest with us...