You can hear a conversation about this poem on the Reformed Journal Podcast. Photo by Ahmad Ajmi on Unsplash

First I place them in a line atop a narrowpath along the side of the house. That path grows muddy in winter,and the stones will

after William Carlos Williamsso much dependsupon a babyGod swaddled incloths lying in a woodenmanger so much dependsupon a manGod swaddled inpain hanging on a woodencross

The marketplace vendors admit they can’t explain God.They shrug and pocket pomegranates. Argue the flax is souring too quickly. They weave a melancholy spiritinto baskets

After 1 Samuel 24 His beard tightly curled, black locks in ringlets,Saul’s regal forehead slumbers on bedrockat the mouth of a shepherd’s desert cavelike an

The name given to a mountainous region in the Book of Genesis, where the binding of Isaac byAbraham is said to have taken place For

A wilderness road so barren and yet so full, I was far from home,too deep in the vast whiteout expanse of Yellowstone,snow-mystified Douglas-firs or legions

I know, I know, the universe is so big that you can’t be significant.So, let’s go small. Let two grains of sand rest in your

How vexing to be like a tree plantedto produce sweet apples yet on whosegrafted branches crab apples grow I know it’s unlikely any other orchardhas