“The Calf Path” – a poem for grooved people One day through the Primal wood, a calf walked as good as calves should; But made a trail all bent askew, a crooked trail, as calves all do. Since then, three hundred years have fled and I infer the calf is dead. But still he left …
by Chris
Last Sunday I encouraged folks to “find your song”. Even a line or phase that becomes your expression this season. A few weeks ago while studying for a sermon, I ran across a lost stanza from the Christmas carol, “Hark, The Harold Angels Sing.” Who knew? I’ve been singing this song for over 50 years and …
by Chris
If breeze still, and rooftops white drifts in the new day’s radiant beams, the place is pleasant and mute, hushed. Between Avenue and Street, East -West who has the wisdom to count the clouds?* Who can tip over the water jars of heaven?* Begetter again this day, gives birth to frost* Out of the North …
by Chris