Eve’s Dream

* he speaks, petals blow in the wind, land in her hands. she holds them and her heart speaks the language of flowers. * what was it He blew this direction? what softness did He bring? what stilled the hearts of creatures? * under the siege of words pains unleashed...

How We Are Like Seeds

I read these words while sitting in the space between spring and summer, on the cusp of wild verdant growth: “Glorifying and enjoying Me is a higher priority than maintaining a tidy, structured life. Give up your striving to keep everything under control —...

Ready to Sleep {a poem}

Ready to Sleep At the crack of first morning, the sun bleeds through holes in blinds, like a laser, hits my eyes. Wincing, I rise, smooth down hair, straighten covers, stumble on wilted feet. I am small; the world is looming. I am old; the day is young. The morning is...

Winter is Dying

    Somewhere, winter is dying Winter is dying somewhere We know it is time. The apple barrel is nearly empty And I am no longer muffled by the snow. I am not sure what to do when spring comes; will I know where to step, will I sink in the grass or stand...