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. . . for Christ plays in ten thousand places, Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his. . . – Gerard Manly Hopkins Long and leggy, doe-eyed, she walks with confidence, a gentle fawn, a young colt. He is all angles, sharp...
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Thirty More Years, by Wendell Berry When I was a young man, grown up at last, how large I seemed to myself! I was a tree, tall already, and what I had not, yet reached, I would yet grow to reach. Now, thirty more years added on, I have reached much ...
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This is the field across the street from our house. Lovely, isn’t it? A new nest rests in the pine tree now. The Mourning Dove and her eggs are gone. Too early for the eggs to have hatched, we wonder what happened – a...
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There’s just one shower here at our new old farm house and it stands about three feet high over an ancient porcelain tub. It’s quirky, you might say, just the sort of thing to inspire a little poetry, and here’s a case where one poem popped up...
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The Season of Resurrection Slender green fingers point toward the windswept sky, where a battle rages between blue and cottony white. Daffodil heads, wrapped in linen brown nod graciously, bright yellow flags waiting to unfurl. ...
