a haiku for something new

simply put, it’s best to try and make something new once and awhile With my domain registration expiring in a few months, I’ve decided to move this platform to Substack, since some of my favorite authors/writers are already there, and it’s a great way to interact and learn. I don’t currently have big plans for

may 29

I sat in a garden today I sat and watched the world go on around me, without me my own stories become a mess of watercolor just after the brush has touched it

worried azaleas

tip toe, peering over outcast azaleas – rain still dripping from their sunset bodies forecast skies call for anxious and tired eyes, awake at 2:00 am

clay and china

In the middle of my office squalor, I have this large whiteboard with pictures of my family and 2 Corinthians 4 scrawled all over it in big black letters. I think I did that a couple months ago after reading the passage for, what it felt like, the first time and feeling like Paul wrote

a blackened and devoted faith

I don’t want to be a cumulative mess of nostalgia, thinking yesterday was better than today, and wishing that tomorrow held the same promises that I once sought.  Tomorrow was gone before I knew it, and with it, a whole meadow of what I hoped.  Is it enough to lay those hopes down again and

king

you are both strength and gentleness like roaring fire and falling snow you are my rock, and you are my hiding place you train my hands for war, and you deliver me from the battle

quiet place

There was one quiet place, growing up. Actually two, but one was the bathroom, and I don’t think that should count. If you walked down the muddied path, around the great oak and through the sea of farm equipment, you would find the great green pine that stood guarding our property.

soliloquy on Jeremiah 31

Oh soul, what great things the Lord has done for you.  Be glad – rejoice in His favor, His immeasurable kindness and mercy.   He has redeemed you from hands that were too strong for you. He has given you a new song – a shout of joy.  He has promised to turn your mourning into

Miss you. Would like you to try and teach me how to sew (again).

Miss you.  Miss your wise, wiry, smooth fingers touching and moving down embroidered fabric, opening your mouth to talk about distant lands and people I’ve never met.  You looked at me with such seriousness; I almost could have laughed but didn’t dare. 

Dear Miss Lavender, Ltr. 3

Dear Miss Lavender, If you could have only felt the crackle of yellow and orange and red cornflakes beneath your feet as I did today. The skies have turned icy silver and blue and the mornings come with that subtle nip of cold that autumn brings. Last week was the beginning of autumn, as formal