Who would think it January? Not the birds chatting eagerly as they zoom from branch to branch, not the tiny blue flowers, newborn among the weeds, and not I, warmed by sunshine and emboldened by the wind. Together, we savor this slice of Spring served so early in the year, the dead world stirring to […]
Read more "January 7, 2026"Still expecting winter, I found a violet in the moss.
Read more "Surprised"I did not know that perfect love was mine, wrapped up in swaddling clothes before my birth and opened there upon the cross—the sign that grants my meager soul its worth. More thrilling than an ice-cold breeze on hot and humid days, the moment when I knew that I had been the object of His […]
Read more "Sonnet VIII"
melenoria 