In the personal quiet

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P e e l i n g s   O n   D i s p l a y

Semirural Scene

North, South Carolina

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You are not beautiful, exactly.

You are beautiful, inexactly.

You let a weed grow by the mulberry

And a mulberry grow by the house.

So close, in the personal quiet

Of a windy night, it brushes the wall

And sweeps away the day till we sleep.

A child said it, and it seemed true:

"Things that are lost are all equal."

But it isn't true. If I lost you,

The quiet wouldn't be yours. If I lost you,

I'd have to ask the grass to let me sleep.

> Marvin Bell <

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Happy Wednesday

Where the sunset was

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L a t e   N o v e m b r i s h

Irmo Town Park

Irmo, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

A dark sail,
Like a wild-goose wing,
Where the sunset was.
The moon soon will silver its sinewy flight
Thro the night watches,
And the far flight
Of those immortal migrants,
The ever-returning stars.

> Cale Young Rice <

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Happy Tuesday

Long before the winter's done

>>>>++<<<<

I ' m   L i s t e n i n g

Elmwood Cemetery

Charlotte, North Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

These hills, to hurt me more,
That am hurt already enough, --
Having left the sea behind,
Having turned suddenly and left the shore
That I had loved beyond all words, even a song's words,
to convey,

And built me a house on upland acres,
Sweet with the pinxter, bright and rough
With the rusty blackbird long before the winter's done,
But smelling never of bayberry hot in the sun,
Nor ever loud with the pounding of the long white breakers, --

These hills, beneath the October moon,
Sit in the valley white with mist
Like islands in a quiet bay,

Jut out from shore into the mist,
Wooded with poplar dark as pine,
Like points of land into a quiet bay.

(Just in the way
The harbour met the bay)

Stricken too sore for tears,
I stand, remembering the Islands and the sea's lost sound --
Life at its best no longer than the sand-peep's cry,
And I two years, two years,
Tilling an upland ground!

> Edna St. Vincent Millay <

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Happy Monday

Dear desire of every nation

>>>>++<<<<

I ' v e   G o t   A   C r è c h e   O n   Y o u

Providence Lutheran Church

Lexington, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

Come, thou long expected Jesus

Born to set Thy people free

From our fears and sins release us

Let us find our rest in Thee

Israel's strength and consolation

Hope of all the earth Thou art

Dear desire of every nation

Joy of every longing heart.

Born thy people to deliver

Born a child and yet a King

Born to reign in us forever

Now Thy gracious kingdom bring

By Thine own eternal Spirit

Rule in all our hearts alone

By Thine all sufficient merit

Raise us to Thy glorious throne.

> Charles Wesley <

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And the angel said unto them, Fear not:

for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy,

which shall be to all people. For unto you

is born this day in the city of David a Saviour,

which is Christ the Lord.

Luke 2:10-11

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Happy Sunday

Swift it slipped its limit

>>>>++<<<<

A r d e n t

Graceland Cemetery

Chicago, Illinois

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He gave away his Life --

To Us -- Gigantic Sum --

A trifle -- in his own esteem --

But magnified -- by Fame --

Until it burst the Hearts

That fancied they could hold --

When swift it slipped its limit --

And on the Heavens -- unrolled --

'Tis Ours -- to wince -- and weep --

And wonder -- and decay

By Blossoms gradual process --

He chose -- Maturity --

And quickening -- as we sowed --

Just obviated Bud --

And when We turned to note the Growth --

Broke -- perfect -- from the Pod --

> Emily Dickinson <

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Happy Saturday

Bear his mild yoke

>>>>++<<<<

P o i s e d   F o r   F l i g h t

Kensico Cemetery

Valhalla, New York

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When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”

> John Milton <

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Happy Friday

Music of the other world

>>>>++<<<<

L o v e ,   L i g h t ,   S w e e t n e s s

Christmas Table

Columbia, South Carolina

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When snow is shaken
From the balsam trees
And they're cut down
And brought into our houses

When clustered sparks
Of many-colored fire
Appear at night
In ordinary windows

We hear and sing
The customary carols

They bring us ragged miracles
And hay and candles
And flowering weeds of poetry
That are loved all the more
Because they are so common

But there are carols
That carry phrases
Of the haunting music
Of the other world
A music wild and dangerous
As a prophet's message

Or the fresh truth of children
Who though they come to us
From our own bodies

Are altogether new
With their small limbs
And birdlike voices

They look at us
With their clear eyes
And ask the piercing questions
God alone can answer.

> Anne Porter <

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Happy Thursday :: Merry Christmas

Grace has a face

>>>>++<<<<

L o v e   L i g h t

Christmas Hearth

Columbia, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

In search of a child they traveled so far
Led by a star to a place of joy
Now the wise men tell a beautiful story
Describing the glory of a baby boy.

Hope has hands, freedom has feet
Truth will stand, the Word will speak
The holy and lowly will finally embrace
For love has a heartbeat

And grace has a face.

Compassion has a tear, joy has a laughter
And here ever after, peace has a smile
Redemption's blood has veins to flow in
A temple to glow in

Light is a child.

Hope has hands, freedom has feet
Truth will stand, the Word will speak
The holy and lowly will finally embrace
For love has a heartbeat

And grace has a face.

> Phil Cross <

>>>>++<<<<

Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift.

I Corinthians 9:15

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Wednesday  ::  Merry Christmas Eve

Upward thro' the gloom

>>>>++<<<<

S t e a d y   O n

Back Fence

Columbia, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

I was not; now I am -- a few days hence
I shall not be; I fain would look before
And after, but can neither do; some Power
Or lack of power says “no” to all I would.
I stand upon a wide and sunless plain,
Nor chart nor steel to guide my steps aright.
Whene’er, o’ercoming fear, I dare to move,
I grope without direction and by chance.
Some feign to hear a voice and feel a hand
That draws them ever upward thro’ the gloom.
But I -- I hear no voice and touch no hand,
Tho’ oft thro’ silence infinite I list,
And strain my hearing to supernal sounds;
Tho’ oft thro’ fateful darkness do I reach,
And stretch my hand to find that other hand.
I question of th’ eternal bending skies
That seem to neighbor with the novice earth;
But they roll on, and daily shut their eyes
On me, as I one day shall do on them,
And tell me not the secret that I ask.

> Paul Laurence Dunbar <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Tuesday

As if the world had just begun

>>>>++<<<<

G o t h i c   G l o a m i n g

Green Mount Cemetery

Baltimore, Maryland

>>>>++<<<<

Light has killed the winter and all dark dreams.
Now winds live all in light,
Light has come down to earth and blossoms here,
And we have golden minds.
From out the long shade of a road high-bankt,
I came on shelving fields;
And from my feet cascading,
Streaming down the land,
Flickering lavish of daffodils flowed and fell;
Like sunlight on a water thrill'd with haste,
Such clear pale quivering flame,
But a flame even more marvellously yellow.
And all the way to Ryton here I walkt
Ankle-deep in light.
It was as if the world had just begun;
And in a mind new-made
Of shadowless delight
My spirit drank my flashing senses in,
And gloried to be made
Of young mortality.
No darker joy than this
Golden amazement now
Shall dare intrude into our dazzling lives:
Stain were it now to know
Mists of sweet warmth and deep delicious colour,
Those lovable accomplices that come
Befriending languid hours.

> Lascelles Abercrombie <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Monday :: Happy December