1Aug 5, 2022
A hundred Loggerhead hatchlings struggle out of a nest. Zoe and Kevin and I happen to walk by on our way to save the world, our hands carving the air as we talk, our feet encrusted with sand. A woman waves to us, beckons with her arm, come and see, and I wonder momentarily if […]
2Sep 25, 2015
Hello there! Good morning to you, he calls. Â He has a brightness I can feel before I see him, even though I realize as I look up that his gear—suit, helmet, even the bike—is all black, like the deepest part of the night. I’m suddenly aware that I’ve been staring at the pavement, while he […]
3Sep 11, 2015
I love wide, open spaces, those places that could never be arm-measured, that overflow conceivable depth and stretch further than sight; spilling over, covering completely, unbound, unheld, uncaptured. So today, because I need reminders, God sends us in a different direction, turning left on a road instead of the usual right, and this just as I […]
4Jul 24, 2015
In the morning, the rain comes, and I do what I have determined to do more and more these days:  I stop to see, to gather up the feeling of the breeze lifting my hair away from my cheeks.  I spy a plump cardinal hiding just inside the gardenias bobbing gently by the steps, an elegant […]
5Mar 6, 2015
Zoe grabs my hand before I turn. “Wait.” We stand on the threshold looking out at the world.  Clouds wrap thick, dove-gray over the warmth of the sky, until all sight takes on a stormy cast.  Winter lingers, and I want to reach out and touch the knobby buds on the branches of the tree in […]