changing; things are starting to
spin, snap, fly off into
the blue sleeve of the long
afternoon. Oh and ooh
come whistling out of the perished mouth
of the grass, as things
turn soft, boil back
into substance and hue. As everything,
forgetting its own enchantment, whispers:
I too love oblivion why not it is full
of second chances. Now,
hiss the bright curls of the leaves. Now!
booms the muscle of the wind.
(Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems, Volume One, Beacon Press, 1992)
I've had this feeling that there is change in the air. Maybe it's an intuition? Maybe it's hope? Maybe it's a last ditch effort to fend off despair, to hold oblivion at bay?
I was baptized when I was nine years old. I have vivid memories of the baptism itself, of being terrified, as I was fully immersed three ti...
Bill and Jody were a parishioner couple in the first church I served as a Rector. Bill was perpetually grumpy in a charming kind of way a...
I admit, there are days when I wonder if there is a God. I mean, days when I am worn thin from the onslaught of violence, the destruction o...