Just the other day. Yellow. As we walked through a wet forest toward an unknown place. Stop hikers and ask how far? Embarrassed after they pass. We’re mountain climbers. Trail builders. “When was the last time we did that?” my husband asks. “How far to the lake?” But we are tired after a late…
Author: Life Along The River
Drift
Summer and the day drifts and shifts away. Like clouds. Shape of a rooster or whale. Shaded patterns along grasses. Branches that bend against sky. Or leaves. Dappled. There are shouts of a man and the bark of a dog. Voice of an owl calling, in an evening, as the day slips, as you study…
God is Here
When I last travelled the desert, I passed this one empty house. It was along a flat stretch of highway. A straight away nearly twelve miles long. Springtime was busting out – the desert filling with promise. Green spotted the hills and I could see dots of little yellow flowers. And rain. Rain was loving…
