Sometimes it just stuns you
like an arrow flung from some angel’s wing.
Sometimes it hastily scribbles
a list in the air: black coffee,
thick new books,
your pillow’s cool underside,
the quirky family you married into.
It is content with so little really;
even the ink of your pen along
the watery lines of your dimestore notebook
could be a swiftly moving prayer.
Posted by kind permission of the poet.
It’s ripe, the melon by our sink. Yellow, bee-bitten, soft, it perfumes the house too…
(at St. Mary’s) may the tide that is entering even now the lip of our…
I miss you, fellow walkers – dad with double stroller, rainbow legging woman, earnest black…
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We invite you to experience six blessings in this short, meditative video from Brother David: