Even turned to stone,
I can’t stop talking.
Water-logged (and -lunged)
I burble on, blow
bubbles with my words
and watch them rising…
Resolution! Schmezolution!
This year, I’m resolved
to make no resolutions
because failure is involved.
Photo by freestocks on Unsplash
One melancholy sight to see:
a brittle, barren Christmas tree.
The lights that twinkled are no more,
pine needles lie upon the floor,
Up the stairs with golden dust
the sandman softly sweeps.
The day I stand before the bar,
I hope to find in me
the person my beloved Savior
knows that I can be.
Photo by Lars Kuczynski on Unsplash
Proof of divinity is all around.
God’s handiwork transcends His mystery.
We hear His voice in every sacred sound:
the trill of birds, the pounding of the sea.
We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing,
for richly He’s blessed us, in years now gone by.
The warmth of our hearth and the love of our family
are more than good fortune; they’re gifts from on high.
