I'll partake of milk and honey

>>>>++<<<<

P l e a s e   G o d

Laurel Grove Cemetery

Savannah, Georgia

>>>>++<<<<

When the brightest star of earth has faded away

When the most desired of treasures has long been decayed

When the tallest of our mountains no longer will stand

The Son will still be shining in glory land

The Son will still be shining, shining so bright

No stormy clouds can gather, no shadows of night

After silver turns to ashes and gold turns to sand

The Son will still be shining in glory land 

When the water from sin’s fountain no longer is sweet

I’ll partake of milk and honey sitting at the Savior’s feet

When earth’s castles will have crumbled that once stood so grand

The Son will still be shining in glory land

Yes, the Son will still be shining, shining so bright

No stormy clouds can gather, no shadows of night

After silver turns to ashes and gold turns to sand 

The Son will still be shining in glory land 

After silver turns to ashes and gold turns to sand

The Son will still be shining in glory land

> Squire Parsons, Jr. <

>>>>++<<<<

And I saw no temple therein:

for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it.

 And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it:

for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.

And the nations of them which are saved shall walk in the light of it:

and the kings of the earth do bring their glory and honour into it.

And the gates of it shall not be shut at all by day:

for there shall be no night there.

Revelation 21:22-25

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Sunday

The foliage of the mind

>>>>++<<<<

P r e s e n t

Bonaventure Cemetery

Savannah, Georgia

>>>>++<<<<

Talk not to me of Summer Trees

The foliage of the mind

A Tabernacle is for Birds

Of no corporeal kind

And winds do go that way at noon

To their Ethereal Homes

Whose Bugles call the least of us

To undepicted Realms

> Emily Dickinson <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Saturday

Not a sound comes

>>>>++<<<<

P o n d l i l y   P i n k

Irmo Town Park

Columbia, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

Late in May as the light lengthens
toward summer the young goldfinches
flutter down through the day for the first time
to find themselves among fallen petals
cradling their day’s colors in the day’s shadows
of the garden beside the old house
after a cold spring with no rain
not a sound comes from the empty village
as I stand eating the black cherries
from the loaded branches above me
saying to myself Remember this

> W.S. Merwin <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Friday

In spite of everything

>>>>++<<<<

I ' m   L i c h e n   I t

Mount Olivet Cemetery

Nashville, Tennessee

>>>>++<<<<

How should I not be glad to contemplate
the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window
and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?
There will be dying, there will be dying,
but there is no need to go into that.
The poems flow from the hand unbidden
and the hidden source is the watchful heart;
the sun rises in spite of everything
and the far cities are beautiful and bright.
I lie here in a riot of sunlight
watching the day break and the clouds flying.
Everything is going to be all right.

> Derek Mahon <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Thursday

On the verge of flame

>>>>++<<<<

S m o k e   a n d   M i r r o r s

Looking Up

Columbia, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

So much on the verge
of flame.
In a hot
wind anything
is tinder: paper, sage

feverish with bees,
your auburn
hair, my hand
that glows with a thought.
Sunset

or sleepless dawn,
nothing is sure
but what’s already burned --
water that’s ash, steel
that has flowed and cooled,

though in the core
of a star, they too
would fuse and rage,
and even volcanic
glass and char,

and the cold seas,
and even    
what we once were
might burn again --
or in the heart.

> James Richardson <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Wednesday

Every new and beautiful light

>>>>++<<<<

S o n i c   a n d   S u m m e r   S k y

From the Passenger Window

Columbia, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

I am going to fail.
I’m going to fail cartilage and plastic, camera and arrow.
I’m going to fail binoculars and conjugations,
all the accompanying musics: I am failing,
I must fail, I can fail, I have failed
the way some women throw themselves
into lovers' arms or out trains,
fingers crossed and skirts billowing
behind them. I’m going to fail
the way strawberry plants fail,
have dug down hard to fail, shooting
brown runners out into silt, into dry gray beds,
into tissue and rock. I’m going to fail
the way their several hundred hearts below surface
have failed, thick, soft stumps desiccating
to tumors; the way roots wizen in the cold
and cloud black, knotty as spark plugs, cystic
synapses. I’m going to fail light and stars and tears.
I’m going to fail the way cowards only wish they could fail,
the way the brave refuse to fail or the vain fear to,
believing that to stray even once from perfection
is to be permanently cast out, Wandering Jew
of failure, Adam of failure, Sita of failure; that’s the way
I’m going to fail, bud and creosote and cloud.
I’m failing pet and parent. I’m failing the food
in strangers’ stomachs, the slender inchoate rings
of distant planets. I’m going to fail these words
and the next and the next. I’m going to fail them,
I’m going to fail her -– trust me, I’ve already failed him --
and the possibility of a we is going to sink me
like a bad boat. I’m going to fail the way
this strawberry plant has failed, alive without bud,
without fruit, without tenderness, hugging itself
to privation and ridiculous want.
I’m going to fail simply by standing in front of you,
waving my arms in your face as if hailing a taxi:
I’m here, I’m here, please don’t forget me,
though you already have, I smell it, even cloaked
with soil, sending out my slender fingers for you,
sending out all my hair and tongue and brain.
I’m going to fail you
just as you’re going to fail me,
urging yourself further down to sediment
and the tiny, trickling filaments of damp;
thirsty, thirsty, desperate to drown
if even for a little while, if even for once:
to succumb, to be destroyed,
to die completely, to fail the way I’ve failed
in every particular sense of myself,
in every new and beautiful light.

> Paisley Rekdal <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Tuesday

A give and get

>>>>++<<<<

L e   B e a u   G e s t e

Laurelwood Cemetery

Rock Hill, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

I sing the will to love:
the will that carves the will to live,
the will that saps the will to hurt,
the will that kills the will to die;
the will that made and keeps you warm,
the will that points your eyes ahead,
the will that makes you give, not get,
a give and get that tell us what you are:
how much a god, how much a human.
I call on you to live the will to love.

> Alfred Kreymborg <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Monday

Thou my soul's shelter

>>>>++<<<<

R e a c h

St. Helena's Parish Church Cemetery

Beaufort, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Be Thou my battle shield, sword for the fight;
Be Thou my dignity, Thou my delight;
Thou my soul’s shelter, Thou my high tower:
Raise Thou me heavenward, O power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my treasure Thou art.

High King of Heaven, my victory won,
May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my vision, O Ruler of all.

> Dallan Forgaill <

>>>>++<<<<

He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good;

and what doth the LORD require of thee,

but to do justly, and to love mercy,

and to walk humbly with thy God?

Micah 6:8

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Sunday

But what of that

>>>>++<<<<

B e   I t   E v e r   S o   H u m b l e

Backyard Fence

Columbia, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

I reason, Earth is short --
And Anguish -- absolute --
And many hurt,
But, what of that?

I reason, we could die --
The best Vitality
Cannot excel Decay,
But, what of that?

I reason, that in Heaven --
Somehow, it will be even --
Some new Equation, given --
But, what of that? 

> Emily Dickinson <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Saturday

Till time and times are done

>>>>++<<<<

C h e r u b   N a t i o n

Christ Church Episcopal Cemetery

Greenville, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

I went out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire a-flame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And someone called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done,

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

> William Butler Yeats <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Friday