The Hope of Dirt
The shovel is my brother, a good companion as we play together in the dirt… and I am bigger for hoping— as I dig, as I turn soil & a few worms upside down. I imagine the tiny roots climbing low, low, low, while tiny shoots climb high, high, high. Sunday’s sunny. Thursday’s rainy. And, in spite of the July fourth storm, all red rumbling, blue bruising, and hailstone white, the beauty pulls through, with small bursts of bright passion. At first, silent and small as a hummingbird hovering, the shoots poke up their green heads, then, choose to linger a...
Arose She
Arose she at magenta sunrise, just after twinkling bouquets faded. The summer damask rose shimmered in an old cut glass vase beside her bed. He always left one waiting there. She thought of that other day, fifty-two summers ago, when her now-snow-headed sweetheart knelt on one knee, and asked what he already knew the answer to: Will you? I will. Every morning, The yes of Whimsy and joy, wafting among quotidian moments, Lovers lasting Aroma. Outside the bay window, roseate puffs proposed, flushing the face of craggy young Rockies. Alpenglow blush: Two beauties dancing to dawn’s delight, on...
What We Didn’t Know
What we didn’t know was that our hearts would burn within us, just like their hearts burned when The Fire Spoke on the road. Emmaus-bound, so they thought, yet really, like us, they were bound to The Consuming One. The Word, Made Flesh, newly spoken, Remade by His Presence, their leaden downcast faces, their slowness of Heart, transforming them into Glowing Ones who declared the truth Of the Risen Bread Of the Flowing Wine to doubters, first themselves, led unto recognizing Him by revelation Of the Resurrected Word. What we didn’t know was that our hearts, too, would find, in the burning...
