Autumn has turned its leaves into wine. Aged with wooden vines, flavored with cedar and pine. Morning dew beads the autumn vines, where buried roots drink and intertwine. Pine needles fall where old tree branches, rot. Cold mornings smell of earthworms and wet rocks. Though the creek is shallow, she’s still holding her breath. The moths grow weak and weary searching for death. The cold beckons seclusion, year after year, as I draw inward, God warms up my tears. Words, like ri

Though I walk on new ground, new paths, new land, This feels familiar but freshly aligned with where I am supposed to stand. I...

This is a poem about the waiting, and how it longs often impatiently.

There are days that I’m good at letting You know how trusting in You I am. Some days I feel You so close that my heart burns as You talk...

My prayers like glitter cascade through my mind. Effervescent lilac-vanilla skies. The pink sunrise mutes the blue night’s goodbye....

This is a secret place prayer.

There are all types of moms in this world. Ones who don’t get flowers, ones who don’t want to celebrate the day. Let us be gentle on all...

The best is yet to be. While kind, it is full of hope. Faith is a substance that fuels it, Though trials sometimes seem like a rope....

Adam and Eve started our story, Though first to live, they were also first to sin.

Though this soil is hard and not ripe, Though the earth we walk does not lend a hand. I fear not the doubt said by many, Their words...

I wade in waters that surround me, I slush through like a hunter in the forest. Though leaves fall by my side, though shivers reach my...

Look to the mountain on each side of you, This sin that, though not seen, can be felt. The grimy flesh that clouds my mind, Praise to the...