tent worms nestin apple tree leavesin limbs raisedreaching skywardas if to heavenleaves rustling in thestill quietgreen raiment devouredwithout a sound bagworms dangle fromfamily fur shrubs landscapeby porch steps, garage doorsunder windowsillsleeching nutrientsuntil pine needles devouredlimbs brownedthe high and low siphoned awaypeace, joy stripped how, some ask, in the devouringand leeching – how canGod be goodor true– to let us endurehard … Continue reading →
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago when the mothers, soldiers, kings and towns and tent-men didn’t realize just how big the world is, but possessed a better understanding of just how big God is – a king lived in the desert with his family, going to and fro over the sands as this big-mighty, world-creating God asked. … Continue reading →
Saturday, I jumped in my canoe and paddled to my garden for dill. The day before, during a lull in the rain, I’d spotted my youngest one, sitting on the raised garden edges, slipping his hand into the tomatoes, chard and peppers to pinch off a few leaves of chocolate-mint and stuff it between his cheek and gum. On Saturday’s … Continue reading →
