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Memories With No Putting Place. . .
The Teacher Speaks. . . .what exactly is memory? Except long things outstanding, which in the course of living, become shorthand of a sort. It would appear that memories should not encroach on one, especially when they are not part of the current life. But since we take on the body of choice, then we…
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A Good Friend
A Good Friend. . . . There is a dark side to everyone’s personality, especially the sensitive one. This dark side often rides the sensitive so heavily that others find them burdensome. Yet needful because being sensitive, they are often also understanding and responsible. When one needs a someone, they are always there, to make…
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The Sound Loaf
The Sound Loaf Evolution or God (perhaps one and the same) finely grinds the meal ever so slowly while I cannot breathe with the dust in the air. But there will one day be understanding with the digestion of the bread. . . . The wholeness of the grain so nicely baked till the…
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If School Is To Keep. . . .
The Newborn. . . The infant balls her fists and pounds the transparent air as if her fists will give her strength enough to break the frustration binding her to an indifferent world. Where no one exalts the intelligence she came with nor the energy to make new and make a difference in this…
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To Embrace The Essence. . . .
To Embrace The Essence He was a young man when he went up to the top of the mountain and a very old man when he came down. What he saw we will always wonder but how close was he when he embraced the essence of God. It was no mean feat we…
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Christmases Past
Do you hear?. . . . Lifetimes lived secreted behind the woolly frames of memory. We jog the frames of Christmases past. . . . Scents of pine boughs and holly berries, mince pies and cranberries. Sounds of apple crisp snow and retorting icicles, crackling fires and laughter. And the…
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The Past is Still Happening
DECEMBER CONFIRMS THE JUNE WOMAN It is June and I stand poised on the landing of the half circular staircase. I am hearing the strains of the Canon not heard in this, my lifetime. Shocked still, caught in the shadows of half remembering and yet reluctant to confront the shaded memories, I wait. She is…
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The Past Is Still Happening. . . .
DECEMBER CONFIRMS THE JUNE WOMAN It is June and I stand poised on the landing of the half circular staircase. I am hearing the strains of the Canon not heard in this, my lifetime. Shocked still, caught in the shadows of half remembering and yet reluctant to confront the shaded memories, I wait.…
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The Journey. . . . .
(they were hard years, but those times when we touched hearts, ahhhh, those were the golden days.) The Journey So we pitch our tents on the side of the quiet river and look for landmarks in the morning. It has been a full day, rafting and wandering through the rapids hoping for a…
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Thanksgiving
How Much Of A Difference It was morning though the night still hung heavy, the clouds hovered, the sun unable to rise. The children gathered for breakfast, morose, unhappy and angry, heavy still with sleep. Mother looked with unhappy eyes and father, already delayed flew out the door. What could she plan for…