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

It’s summer and the monarchs are getting ready for their migration this fall. Here are two previously published poems about Monarch Butterflies. Butterfly by Harold

We are taking a break at Reformed Journal this week, so here are two previously published poems that capture the essence of summer. Blackberry Blood

You sayI should revere the fatherwho made my squint-eyed sister my enemy,birthing sons: chiseled-flint spearsto pierce my envious heart. I sayHe’s a trickster to rivalmy