Father, thank You for Sundays— brothers and sisters huddled at your feet, singing to You and remembering You and waiting for You— sweet foreshadows of Home. –Read more "Thanksgiving: Sundays"
He slunk around the darkened street at night and hid in lies, and marble-whitened sin. And then, when no one else was left in sight, he came to church and, pious, slithered in. – – – – – – – – – – – – – –Read more "Satan Visits"
The frost lies hardened on the frozen ground, the trees encased in glassy slips of ice. A lonely raven calls across the field of silent white. The air is fresh and hard. I stand outside among my fields and look down at the rows of dying, stubbled corn: the husks of harvest—gone until the spring. […]Read more "Medieval Advent"
Bang! Bang! Bang! Echoed through the streets and houses hammer strokes descend on wood. People, children, milled about him buying, running, all unknowing there on steps of long tradition, bowing head in firm conviction, challenging the church united, Martin Luther stood. – Bang! Bang! Bang! Echoed through the nave and rafters spreading fast throughout the […]Read more "Martin Luther Stands"