Most feathered friends have taken off in flocks heading south by now. I read this poem and thought of them…wish I were in their feathers right about now, weary, tender and happy to be soaring with friends sans regrets to … Continue reading
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem) Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too was a gift. – Mary Oliver from Thirst (Beacon Press, 2006)
These crimson drops, a momento of yet another transitional flash in this life cycle, have speckled this verdant swath like the first hearten strokes on canvas. The Maker already knows the final image, but His beloved children wait to see … Continue reading
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