Poetry

Hawk's hooked beak clips Rabbit's spine, clips her screech.

I dreamt not long ago a rattler come sliding through the grass slow as digestion.

This world is a garden fearfully made ...

The soul of my cat in the rise and fall of her breathing ...

Did I know, setting out, anything other than one foot after the other on this rocky landscape of twisted ankles and slithering snakes hiding?

Friendship is a reciprocal relationship characterized by intimacy ...

This place is flushed with a friendly light on Sunday evenings when the days grow short, but not on this Lord's Day morning.

I said I wouldn't do it, so how does it happen on a Sunday we took communion that I find myself staring at a glowing, naked image?

Did it feel different, I wonder, to hold the child?