Leaf Maker

Leaf Maker

Leaf  Abscission (noun)* the act of cutting off; sudden termination. Botany. the normal separation of flowers, fruit, and leaves from plants. Leaves change color in a glorious display for only a short time, only to fall to the ground, dead. Trees lose their...

Living in Pandemic Time

We’ve heard of kairos time and chronos time. Maybe, tongue in cheek, now we have “pandemic time”. Indeed, how do we define time during a pandemic? There is the slow, thick movement of monotonous days at home during quarantines. Simultaneously, there is the sense of...

Treasures from the Tree Maker

  Abscission (noun)* the act of cutting off; sudden termination. Botany. the normal separation of flowers, fruit, and leaves from plants. The Tree From a place deep within itself, the autumn tree bursts forth in glorious color, and shows a different face of its...

senescent (poem)

Senescent (adjective) growing old; aging. Cell Biology. (of a cell) no longer capable of dividing but still alive and metabolically active. As in: trees laughing leaves, dropping down on me, floating in the wind. I catch a handful of laughter, toss it back in the air....

One More Day

The wind whispers in the leaves, “Change is coming, can you hear it?” Autumn breezes softly blow and colors subtly change. The wind scatters the few fallen leaves like my thoughts. That is when I remember the Holy Spirit moves like the wind, a gentle...

A Shift With Rain

    A Shift With Rain A long wind brushes its fingers through the trees in a stretched whisper. On occasion, it moves angrily, and other times, it shakes and howls at the windowpanes. The long whispers flutter sweetly, softly, welcoming the listener into the...

The Last Days of August

      … and so the day slips   the long mournings of trees last traces of gold     © prasanta  –  August 2018     “August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.” ― Sylvia...

Summer Can Stay

  People are ready to roll out the pumpkins. Me? Not so much. Maybe it would be true, if I still lived in the south. Because I live in the land of a seemingly endless winter, I grasp onto every last sliver of summer. (I know what’s coming each fall, each...