Rain in the Trees

It patter taps on straw, soft and low and muffled like the bird. But when I try and tiptoe past the watchful trees still hear and see. – The sentinels gaze down. Wise and wake they solemn, rise and shake above my head their sprinkle spread: drips of crystal drops for free. – The woods […]

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…– Silence is a word, a world separated from the source that gives its pulsing veins the life to joy inside its God. – Silence is a grave. a tomb, a stony slab of quiet. Come to stay forever in the night: the pulsing vain-ness of a life lived outside its Lord. – – – […]

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An Autumn Night

The perfect night— a soft rain serenading; the street ashine  with lamp light; the leaves stretched out, lazy, on the grass; and I, quiet on the porch, sipping on delight.                  –

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