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)
I stray like string in the wind untethered from that tight spot at the bottom holding me in place. Anchored there tension provides strength for the tune to be played– a fiddler bows across the tautness and chords are plied, played as His fingers hold me in place. Snapped, tho’, the string aflutter, undone there…
One thing the world needs is for more people to read poetry. Especially from female writers of a certain age who identify as people of faith. I hope you enjoy this small round up and take the time to read more of their work via the links provided. You will be richer for it. It should…
Autumn morning, my eyes are trainedthrough windows to the shadowshow on tree trunks, crayon box of colors falling through space from newly-revealed branches.Creator comes to mind, how Hecarries us, colors us, covers uswith His power, tree-like arms ourstrength, raising us Heavenward. Aware that sap is invisible, a pulsing, stickyriver, carrying nourishment in its wake while…
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…
spent some time with the family recently. A lot of family….ever felt like this? ~~~~~~~~~~~ My train of thought often veers off track taking side journeys to sights unknown. I’ve jumped the rails, freight cars airborne, leaving passengers in my wake, schedules in hand, confused, wondering– did they miss the whistle at the station— ’cause surely,…
Beginning Years and miles evaporate like the morning’s ocean fog where the strong, bright gleam of friendship holds true. Holds true like trees that have weathered decades of sun as we weathered our own wearying waves of life, lapping at the edge of our friendship, threatening to erode the years of tears and laughter, the breaking…