The Waiting Season
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Rushing Wind, Blow Through this Temple
The ‘shuff, shuff, scritch’ of my sneakers against the damp leaves interrupts the sound of quiet on this woodsy walk. A flicker’s cry breaks in high above while I step over the dank patterned tree life at my feet. The path before me is almost entirely covered in debris revealing just the smallest glimmers of emerald…
65 is Just a Number {a #poem}
There is no statute of limitations on vision. My old eyes register a darting messenger ofGod’s blatant, creative joy. Watch the wingedcreation hover in a web of air.Spy a sleuthing intrudersnap-tapping its wayacross the wood, tunnelingaway and down the outside stairs. No expiration (yet) for hearing,cataloguing birdvoice and thechipclacking of breakfastat the feeder, the squeakinginsistence…
Seven Books for the Seasons
Did you know that woodchucks (aka the groundhog) and Jesus’ birthday have something in common? On the church calendar, February 2nd is Candlemas, the last Feast Day in the Christian year dated in reference to Christmas. This celebration of Candlemas marks the presentation of Jesus in the Temple 40 days after his birth (as Jewish…
A Writer’s Life Credo
Because I cannot do 500 words a day every morning and well, frankly, wonder at those who do. From my files (circa 2008, long before this blog.) ~~~~~~~~~ I hate it that I am so sporadic Inconsistent, not persistent, no straight ahead in a line to the finish. I’m distracted, side-tracked Stops and starts,…
Dwelling With God, The Retreat Version
The weekend of October 16-18, 2016, was a Heaven-come-to-earth occasion at ‘Dwell’, an intimate Writer’s Retreat co-led with my friend Kimberlee Ireton. We ‘Glory Writers’ camped in Psalm 37 for the weekend, particularly verses 3-7, and meditated on all those verbs–‘Trust’ ‘Delight’ ‘Commit’ ‘Rest’ and the tough-to-do ‘Fret not.’ My paraphrase of the definition of…
Writing the Book That You Need-Mining the Bright Birds
Last fall when the sky was cobalt blue and leaves were brilliant, flaming shades of amber and maroon (as they are wont to be here in the Pacific Northwest) I stole away for an overnight writing retreat. My goal was to cobble together a year’s worth of poetry that hadn’t seen the light of day…
