It took a lot of energy to bloom so mightily.
And a long time, a whole year.
Now, once again, the wind has stripped me to leaves.
All I could do was stand there and take it.
No place to hide and I can’t run anyway.
The wind heard my laments, my complaints.
It couldn’t put my blooms back on my twigs.
But it noticed and cared,
swept up my blossoms into a whirlwind.
Momentary abundance of swirling lively beauty,
enough memory to last a year.
Pat Conover…
I am a tall grass,
once green, now brown.
My roots tell me new grasses are eager, surging.
I can’t quite see if they are surfacing yet.
My sight isn’t what it used to be,
and I don’t know the current memes.
So I enjoy just standing and waving in the wind,
my seed long since scattered,
at peace,
in my place,
with my companions,
waving in the Spirit wind.…
In our community,
The life of Christ,
That sense of Immanent Creation,
Is the vision bringing us
Together in one body.
Seekers,
Looking for the Holy Spirit here –
An inner voice that guides;
Becoming church that celebrates diversity;
An image of the world
United by
A common understanding.
The love of God
Calls forth our gifts and pains,
The brick and mortar of the future.
The brick and mortar of the future
Calls forth our gifts and pains-
The love of God.
A common understanding,
United by
An image of the world
Becoming church that celebrates diversity.
An inner voice that guides,
Looking for the Holy Spirit here.…
Go ahead, give it a shot.
Give all of it – everything you’ve got.
You’ll get it back, don’t worry.
Don’t be impatient, don’t scurry.
But say it doesn’t come back.
Will you be lost, lose track?
Don’t let it take you down.
Just keep yourself going, you’ll get the crown.
We worry too much, too long.
Always thinking something will go wrong.
Look up, look out, see beauty everywhere.
Walk, sing, laugh, twirl, without a care.
Sure, there’ll be an up and down.
But have faith, there really is love all around.…
Hard times in Stillwater. We got by.
We bartered advertisements for food, clothing, coal.
Others, not so lucky.
When the Rices ran out of coal, they’d camp out in our house.
We’d huddle around the table, work on jigsaw puzzles to forget.
We’d go sliding down the long hill in front of our house,
dressed warm enough to join Admiral Byrd at the North Pole.
Come March the snow began to melt.
We’d launch tin cans to sail on the streams rushing down the gullies.
High hilarity, Spring was here, almost.
Roosevelt, the NRA, the CCC slowly brought out of the
Depression.…