Advent II, 2025 Birth itself is a stripping away:the branches must let go and all waits in exposureand makes the offeringand bears the cold, though not alone, though not alone.There is the within that draws from the deeps where the Good abides to nourish and sustain;where the necessary is shared with those who needwhere heart knowing hums the memory of birdsong once embraced…
Advent I, 2025: a Poem
Advent I, 2025 Origin, shape, shadow,the overt, the unnamed,the just, the frightened.All that is, the real,the whole that is entirely blessed,the fullness that stumbles,the immediate to horizonminimus-maximus all of it all.Everything is saturatedwith love, oh open my senses,overwhelm me with this, please;Render me so transparent that I too feel the quickening, this time of birth. Kimberly…
Poetry for the Deep Time of God: a poem
Poetry for the Deep Time of God (with thanks to a friend who used this phrase in her sermon…) The tidal pull-pushshaping land and sea;The surety of gravity,the mystery of horizon’s expanse;The vigil watch over day, over night,the great lights revealing both shape and shadow;The words that matter, that staythreaded through the heart;The place-making work…
Murmurations and thoughts: from the Journal
8:21 AM Saturday, 15 November 2025 …Have seen murmurations this morning while driving thru the container pier–and also, once I got to Point Pleasant Park, there was a pair of loons having either a bath or breakfast–hard to tell from this distance. The murmurations were small but I can’t help thinking–isn’t that how they always…
From the Journal: Stories At the Market
At the Market, on this rainy autumn Saturday, wrapped in a shawl of warm sensory delight: The canopy of murmuration, the swirling soft-edged swell of voices, of vendors and wanderers engaged in exchanging a word before exchanging goods or services; the organic artistry of stacked colours, textures, and scents…a mosaic of inspiration and potential; the…
Fall Back: From the Journal
From the journal, 02 November, 2025 8:19 PM From the end of the hall… When I was a kid, I understood that the clock moved ahead in the springtime and back in the late fall. The mechanics were simple…and I would help make sure all of the clocks in the house were set correctly.. What…
A Quiet that Cannot be Sought
A little while back, I had an insight that nothing is any more real than any other thing. I wrote about it HERE. After an experience the other day, I had a related thought—There might not be gradations of Real…but there Are different kinds of quiet. There is the shallow quiet of desperation, of groping…
On beholding…
From the journal…15 October, 2025 6:29 AM…Good Morning. Am at the end of the hall with chai, waiting for the sun to rise. I just wrote to R about one of the wonders of sunrise being the awareness of the turning of the Earth. To know with such wonder that I am beholding the handiwork…
Sudden Thought: A poem
Sudden Thought Maybe it was a the unbound bouquetof leaves being tossed by a silver wind;Or the mouse crawling over my left foot,treating my shoelace like a riverto be carefully forded;It’s also possible that it was the view alone,out over a slow roll of lawn and downtoward Flora who stands as a sentinelover a scalene…
Thanksgiving Grace, 2025
If you’re looking for something to use at Thanksgiving this coming weekend…or next month, location depending… Here’s an offering… Peace to each and all. May you be surrounded by the love of good people and may thanksgiving overflow.
Consider the Lilies 