when it’s easy to believe

i’ve got food on my back and mud on my feet and we’re walking our way into forest into cabin and it’s springand the robins are singing, you know the way they sing? like the world is a cathedral, and they, the only choir, and we’re walking lined...

the importance of feeling small

I’m all mud from falling slope. It’s soil like he was black, in shirt and pants and voice and paper in a church so still even the babies hushed. I remember Friday as we walk on Saturday. The grass and sky all there is, hills of scratchy green and boy in wagon and us...

Eating Color: Over at The Wellspring today…

I’ve left the can open and he’s 16 months and he tips it, white on carpet on wall and there’s so much white I laugh.Soap and water and clean what son has spilled and it’s the one place I can breathe. This easel, this canvas, my church. This place between brush and...