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What’s next?

What’s next?

    Inevitably, if you write a book or create a work of art, people ask what you’re up to next. Maybe that’s true for anything. When you get your degree, people ask when you will get another degree. When you get a job, they ask what kind of work you’d like next. When...

The Shape of New Beginnings

The Shape of New Beginnings

  I’ve been asking God how He wants to shape me for this new year. Not a resolution. Not a goal. A clarifying of who I am to be, how I am to become. I’ve been listening for His response, waiting to hear. As Advent turned to Christmas, as December moved towards January, I’ve journaled,...

Alert for Betweens

Alert for Betweens

  Between This line And the next My thoughts burst forth Like fireworks Shimmering against The dark.   Between This line And the next I may have strolled around the block Or down the lane. I may have stopped and chatted with a friend Over a cup of Earl Grey tea.   Between This...

The Habit of Poetry

The Habit of Poetry

  “I want to be a better writer, so I try to read a poem a day,” says L. L. Barkat. I agree. Reading poetry is like the interplay of chocolate and oranges: rich, juicy, tart, and unexpected. It changes how I look at words and how I write them. Poetry came into my life early:...

Saints Abound

Saints Abound

All Saints’ Day In the middle of this week which holds All Hallows’ Eve and All Saints’ Day, it’s a good time to pause and reflect on those who have gone on before us, as well as on the here and now. Whenever I come to this season of the year, I think of Hebrews 11. This “Saint’s...

Summer’s End

Summer’s End

I tug the paper-thin blanket snuggly around me, inhaling dawn’s air, as crisp and brilliant as the orange carrots, as the fresh and green leafy spinach received yesterday from my CSA. Though the calendar reads August, if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was autumn already. In Colorado fall...

Remnants

Remnants

  Rivulets steam and stream Salty, hot, Under this thick non-woven Breathing face mask, Meant to keep out A million miniscule molecules Of ash, one remnant of That rant of fire That leapt the canyons and dry ridges, In one pyrocumulus moment Then consumed, decimated, This now catastrophed...

What would you grab in a fire?

What would you grab in a fire?

Saturday morning dawned bright and clear. Walking early with a friend, we inhaled Colorado’s beauty as the sun rose, glowed on western ridges, and illuminated Pikes Peak.  Usually snow-capped in June, how bare it looked now due to winter’s snow drought. Another outlandishly hot, dry day loomed...

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