I near yourself to the fire friend. we will crock the chili and pot the coffee… the plow is on the truck, the tractor is in the barn. dogs that would otherwise snort off the call indoors are whining for a hunker down. now, we wait for the snow to fall from the black seams […]
when my heart becomes the winter bird, shivered in the cold and grey solitudes of melancholy, I turn to a stark deliberation: first, I walk, out into the unbound spaces and with each step remembering the quiet genesis of my faith. second, I work, setting my hands to the real of the commonplace in unadorned […]
the willow tree is dying, and I, so of myself, would ask what I might do to save it. as if a tree should not be seen as glory laid so low in western winds, so slow to loosen at the root, opening to the sky, returning to the earth… the host of shade and […]
I dream of gathering stones when I am empty of the virtues, when I cannot bear the voice that speaks the words… Silence is the boundless heaviness of unknowing, defeating me to all that is, to everything Other, within the steady solitude of faith, a great sea, not of what the eye sees, not of […]
to the one who remembers pangaea… to the soul dredged deep of a land before God broke bread of it with mighty words of root and cause to cast continents upon the waters; be heartened. though no one taught you of your unique endowment, instinct and archetype are a lamp unto your feet. the world within you […]
tend to the part of the world you are given to… that is the body and blood of it.
one knows the fragrant page of an old book, the reliable creak in the wooden floor, the wobbly traverse of a cobblestone street, the flow off the edge of an eavestrough. one can see into a dusty sunbeam, the waddle of the train, the bleat of the lamb, a groan in the mast, the lightening […]