New Poem: Advent
Full orbed and pregnantly expecting, the world races around in gestation, waiting for the babe of reconciliation to arrive and shepherd us to salvation.
Full orbed and pregnantly expecting, the world races around in gestation, waiting for the babe of reconciliation to arrive and shepherd us to salvation.
I could never fit all I’m grateful for in one poem like God could never squeeze into only one place or perspective…
Instead, let go, and yes, you can do it, put your hands up
all the way up.
Heed with contemplation how incessant and perpetual and continuing and relentless such a list can be…
The bud stands for all things, even for those things that don’t flower, for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
I am very proud of who Becky has become. Happy birthday! I love you!
The breeze clatters the leaves across the pavement, swirling in eddies…
Let the angels tell them what they need to know. Trust God’s steady hand and correcting rod for thankfully that is not our job.
This year I am riveted to taking in and treasuring the beauty of its lingering presence with thankfulness and hope.
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
There is always a solution when we give ourselves consent to go forward.