the gentle wipe of the nose helped her breathe, but my tiny granddaughter cried, mad i paused her feeding. then i remembered: how much the unexpected lapses in life are just the Good Father, wiping us clean so we can inhale all the joy.
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keep going. a poem.
give them something to get them through the winter, God said. And so up came snowdrops and crocuses sassy and strong. and i, walking by, keep going.
alive: a poem
short are the days but long is the heart surrendered to the gray day, a welcome cocoon from the garish summer heat. saucy red heads of the cardinal and downy woodpecker break the misty winter curtain only for a moment, but long enough to pierce the slumbering soul alive.